


The Cure

by Caahs



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Disorder, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou are Bros, Bokuto Koutarou Being Bokuto Koutarou, Coach Shimizu Kiyoko, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Established Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Eventual Smut, Everyone belongs to Fukurodani, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Humor, Heavy Angst, Injury Recovery, Kuroo Tetsurou is a Good Friend, Love Confessions, M/M, MSBY Black Jackals - Freeform, Minor Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, Minor Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Nationals, Oikawa Tooru is a Tease, Orthopedist Iwaizumi Hajime, Physiotherapist Akaashi Keiji, Physiotherapist Sugawara Koushi, Slow Burn, Triggers, rated M for last chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:28:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 45,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23948431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caahs/pseuds/Caahs
Summary: If someone asked the members of Fukurodani’s volleyball team about Bokuto Koutarou’s personality, the wing spiker popularly known as the ace, most would say Bokuto was intrinsically energetic, communicative and cheerful, but also exaggerated, unstable, irritating and terribly naive.However, after a fateful incident during a friendly match, Bokuto's emotions became simply a mask for everyone else to see, nothing but a lie on display at his personal exhibition.Could Akaashi Keiji, a rising physiotherapist, remedy Bokuto from his wounds and allow the old ace to take flight once again?
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 45
Kudos: 107





	1. The Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> Looks like I'm back to writing
> 
> This work is already finished in [Portuguese](https://www.spiritfanfiction.com/historia/a-cura-18449503) but thanks to [Iliura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iliura/pseuds/iliura) I started to translate this to share with you guys (you should really read her works, by the way). I'm currently translating chapter 4 and this will be updated weekly (probably each Friday), but I might change my mind about that later, depends on how fast I work on that translation
> 
> I should warn you this will be one hell of a ride, so be ready
> 
> We also have a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1OBx2aEpCNZsC6Nbxt9NDr?si=XbQqXH_yRDWaIXUpcg52wQ), so I'll be indicating a few songs for upcoming chapters
> 
> Enjoy!

**July 18th**

The sunlight crossed any atmospheric barriers during that radiant morning, permeating itself between buildings and nature that welcomed them all with open arms. A static, dry lawn, sprinkled with a characteristic mist of the night, vibrated in resonance with its greenish saturation, circling the courts and dormitories of that vast retreat, which would host the summer training matches between several competitors from the Kanto region in Japan.

Fukurodani’s bus distantly approached the parking lot with all its glory and eccentricity, decorated in white, black and gold, as the design currently presented in its player’s uniforms, differing only by the small decorative illustrations of owls spread across the vehicle’s length.

Bokuto Koutarou, the team captain, was the first to take a step down and feel the grass caress the sole of his padded and sporty shoes. With both arms raised in celebration and a warm and exaggeratedly big smile, Bokuto took a deep breath and released all the air trapped inside his lungs at once.

"Woohooo!"

The birds that animatedly expressed their singing over the trees took off thanks to the ace, frightened by his sudden presence and exaltation.

“Bro, I can't believe we're finally here! Do you think the cafeteria is already open!? I could eat an entire board of yakiniku right now,” Bokuto brought both hands close to his stomach, which did nothing to hide the obvious sounds of his gluttony.

Before the brunette behind Bokuto could respond, the ace’s bright golden eyes grew rapidly in size, like a child who had just received an unexpected gift

"I had an even better idea. We could go to the sports court now and train a little, what do you think!?" His hands now clung to the brunette's arms behind him, but his eyes searched endlessly for another figure in the distance. “Hey, Oikawa! I demand you to toss for me so I can get my spikes in shape!”

A sigh could be heard from the back of the bus in response to the ace’s demand.

“Bokuto-chan, the only thing I want to toss at the moment is your face on the ground, but I’m afraid my beautiful hands don't deserve this terrible treatment,” Oikawa Tooru, the team's setter, dramatized, caressing his hands as if they were physically hurt.

Bokuto frowned and his lips parted in surprise. "Bro, did you hear what he just said!?" He turned to the brunette. "I don't want him to rub my face in the dirt," murmured the ace while crossing his arms, clearly annoyed by the setter’s choice of words.

The brunette behind Bokuto sighed and smiled weakly at the attitude of his team as a whole. “Let's pack our stuff first, Bokuto. Then, we'll see what this place has to offer us,” Kuroo Tetsurou, the middle blocker, said as he pushed his best friend along the gravel path that would take them to the dorms.

Kuroo and Bokuto were inseparable; from the moment they met their friendship developed instantly, like the press of a switch capable of bringing light into a dark room. Both were similar in many of their attitudes, considered by most to be quite childish, only not when they succumbed to concentration during any kind of match, radically shifting their personalities and characteristics in order to win. In addition, Kuroo seemed to be the owner of an abundant patience, the only one capable of handling Bokuto’s extreme opposite moods; his dejected mode and his typical easy-going way of being. Kuroo could free Bokuto's chaotic mind from any fog that might inebriate his thoughts. A task not always easy to be accomplished.

Before Bokuto and Kuroo could go any further, a female voice among the crowd caught not only their attention, but the rest of the team’s as well.

"Before you start wandering around, I’d like to say a few things to all of you." Kiyoko Shimizu, the team's coach, adjusted the pair of glasses peacefully framing her eyes and waited until everyone got off the bus and politely gathered around her in a half-moon shape.

“Thank you to everyone who worked hard to get here. The matches that will take place in the next three days will put into practice everything we’ve been developing until then,” her posture irradiated seriousness for the tightly-crossed arms around her chest and the overall sturdy expression, broken by a discreet tug on the corners of her lips. “I don't want you to think that these games will be worthless, play like you’ve always did, practice what you’ve been taught and I'm sure everyone will enjoy this experience,” her face softened slightly with each word said. "Feel free to do whatever you wish today, but make sure tomorrow you’ll all be ready for our first match against Ubugawa."

"Now go, you’re all excused," the coach dismissed them with a simple hand gesture.

The team answered her in chorus, proceeding with their belongings to their respective dorms.

Shimizu was overly respected, not only by Fukurodani, but also by all other regional schools. Appreciated by the scouts for her quick and tactical thinking, Shimizu quickly stood out when she was quietly watching matches from the bench as an assistant and it didn't take long before she took charge of the team when the former coach retired. Despite the oftently spoken harsh words, Shimizu didn’t hold herself back on compliments, explicitly directing them at each member of the team, turning her closed and uninviting features into a mirage for the unsuspecting.

As they walked toward their dormitories, Bokuto saw Karasuno’s players approaching them from the other side of the parking lot.

"Hey, hey, Bro!" He closed the distance between him and Kuroo so he could whisper not very quietly in his ear. “Isn't that Karasuno’s number 10? That shortie with the amazingly fast spikes and high jumps?” Bokuto was barely able to contain his enthusiasm, pointing his finger at the redhead now almost in front of him.

Hinata Shouyou's eyes glowed just like the coloring of his bright orange hair when caressed by daylight as he recognized the figures that were loudly talking just ahead. "Kageyama!" The boy shouted without worries of being heard. “Isn't that Fukurodani’s ace!? His hair looks so much cooler live!” Hinata was filled with excitement, repeatedly jumping next to his setter, Kageyama Tobio.

Before Kuroo or Kageyama could answer the questions from their respective teammates, Bokuto proudly filled his chest with nothing but air, crossing his arms in order to show more of his muscles and allowing a smug grin to spread across his face, showing everyone a vision of his white bright teeth.

“You’re correct, Chibi-kun! It's me, Bokuto Koutarou; captain, wing spiker and Fukurodani’s ace!” Bokuto maintained a heroic pose for those two who closely watched him.

"That's so cool!" Hinata exclaimed, raising his arms and jumping high, easily reaching Bokuto's height. “How do you manage to style your hair like this!? Could you teach me to do that too?” Hinata asked, trying his best to arrange his wild strands of hair so that it minimally resembled Bokuto’s spiky hair.

Bokuto laughed in response, bringing one hand up against Hinata's hair and messing it up affectionately. “It's incredible, isn't it!? You can’t imagine how much I need to spend on hair gel for it to look like this every day. I mean, it would be easier if I had a large stock of hair gel for the rest of my life,” for a second, Bokuto interrupted his speech, actions, and forming features, as if someone had just reset his entire system, and slowly turned to Kuroo.

"Bro, I just had a great idea," he waited for Kuroo’s answer to continue. “How about we talk to Shimizu-senpai and convince her to go after one of those hair gel companies and hire them as our sponsor? That way I’d have an infinite supply!”

At the same time that Bokuto and Hinata were excited about Bokuto's supposed brilliant idea, Kuroo and Kageyama sighed almost in despair at the immature thoughts of both teammates.

"I can't believe this guy is considered to be one of the top five aces," Kageyama whispered, his expression unable to hide such discontent.

"Hey, Kageyama!" Kuroo caught the setter's attention. "I heard what you said," Kuroo embraced Bokuto with one of his arms, passing it behind the captain's shoulders and bringing him closer. "This guy here can be a little childish sometimes, but he has a heart of gold," his lips curved in a wide, provocative smirk. "And I bet he’ll beat you all inside the court."

The amount of power overflowing through every pore of Kuroo and Bokuto’s bodies was undeniable, as if they were ten feet above Hinata and Kageyama at that very moment, who could only watch them from the ground. Like observing a pair of owls on the top of a tree. The imposition hidden within their presence was noticeable to any individual, including Hinata and Kageyama. However, instead of moving backward, Karasuno’s players remained unaltered, slowly walking forward in order to reach them.

"I'm going to beat you,” said Hinata with a surprisingly dark expression and a serious tone. "We will beat you and then, you’ll watch us win the Spring Tournament and the Nationals," emphasized Hinata.

Bokuto gave a weak laugh, losing some of his composure. "I really want to see what you're capable of, Chibi-kun," he then smiled again, excited to have found someone who would give him the encouragement needed to show his skills and prove himself worthy of his title as one of the top five aces.

The sun reached its peak at noon. The teams arrived little by little and soon the place, previously deserted, became populous; the sounds of nature, resumed by the chirping of birds and croaking of frogs, were dominated by conversation, laughter, and euphoria from acquaintances during their friendly reunions. Some preferred to enjoy their free time on entertainment or taking a well-deserved rest, others insisted on the idea that each second of wasted training meant a step further from the long-sought golden trophy.

When the sky was tinged with a harmonic mixture of pink and orange, part of Fukurodani’s team was headed to one of the available courts.

"I can't believe I'm being dragged to the court with you two," Oikawa, a few steps behind his captain and middle-blocker, muttered disdainfully, bringing one hand to his forehead. “Did you know that today is Iwa-chan's day off? I could be talking to him now if it weren't for you.”

Bokuto briefly peeked at Oikawa before leaning towards Kuroo. "Bro, who is Iwa-chan again?"

Kuroo whispered in Bokuto's ear, apprehensive that Oikawa would listen and scold him for the words that would be said next. “He's Oikawa's imaginary boyfriend, remember? The doctor who’s always too busy for him.”

Stopping his pace, Bokuto turned around completely and extended his arm, pointing at his setter. "Oikawa!" He exclaimed. “You are the only one with the honor and capability of giving me the best tosses so that I can make the most perfect spikes. Come on, it’ll be fun!” Bokuto offered him one of his simplest smiles, though filled with that usual brightness which was always plastered on his face, no matter how tough the situation seemed to be.

Oikawa was surprised, not expecting such an encouraging response from Bokuto. “Well, that’s fair since I’m the best setter you’ll ever have. Isn't that right, Bokuto-chan?” Oikawa passed by his captain and winked at him before moving on to the court; his mood completely restored thanks to Bokuto’s praise, who nodded happily before following him.

"So, how will we do this?" Kuroo asked as he brought his arm close to his chest, stretching his shoulders and arms. "Me against you two?" He released his arms and cracked his neck as he grinned defiantly.

"Not like that, Kuroo," Bokuto whined. “There’s no fun if you’re the only one blocking, ‘cause I always get through it,” modesty was definitely not one of Bokuto’s strengths. "We need one more person." Bokuto looked around him hopefully, even trying to catch a sound from outside, but to no avail.

Oikawa pressed two fingers to his lips in thought. "I think I saw someone sitting outside when we arrived, could be that blondie from Karasuno."

Kuroo's eyebrows went up and he raced to the door. “I'm going to check with him. Don't you dare start without me!” He waved shortly.

Only then did Kuroo realize it was already dark. The clear night sky provided a mesmerizing view of stars shining thousands of miles away. The sounds were no longer so deafening and uncomfortable, boiling down to nature’s and slippage of sports shoes against the floor along with brief instructions or words of encouragement.

A breeze forced Kuroo's eyes to discreetly close, allowing him to take advantage of the refreshing feeling that greeted his face and shook his already messy hair. When his vision focused again, he saw a blond boy in the distance, sitting on a stone bench with a cell phone on his hands and earphones in his ears.

"Hey, you're from Karasuno, aren't you?" The boy seemed unaffected by Kuroo's words, not even looking up from the small device.

Kuroo removed the left one of his earphones and leaned closer to the boy. "Can you hear me now?" He smirked cynically. “Kuroo Tetsurou, Fukurodani’s middle-blocker, though you might already know that,” he held out his hand in a sympathetic gesture, but in return he received an intensely irritated look.

"I don't give a damn who you are." The boy replied, adjusting the earpiece back to his ear. "Go away."

Supporting both hands on his knees, Kuroo sighed in defeat, but suddenly stood up when he recognized the boy and asked him. “Number 11, isn't it? Tsukishima Kei, Karasuno’s middle-blocker. I vaguely remember watching you play and, man, I could teach you a few things if you want,” he offered. ”I actually just had a great idea, you should come with me and help me block a few spikes from my friends. What do you think?"

"Why should I waste my time training with a bunch of idiots?" Tsukishima replied.

Kuroo's change of mood at that moment was noticeable, his features slowly shifting to show nothing but sheer anger. "You know what? It’s your loss, Tsukishima-san,” Kuroo raised his arms, waving a small goodbye and turned his back to Tsukishima.

After a brief moment of silence, Tsukishima put his earphones in his bag with short, meticulous movements and stood up, following Kuroo's steps towards the court. “You didn't even wait for me before walking away. How rude of you, Kuroo-san,” Tsukishima reached Kuroo and looked at him briefly, not bothering to hide the vicious smirk on his face.

Rather than succumb to Tsukishima's teasing, Kuroo embraced him by the shoulders and brought him closer to his body. "I apologize for my attitude, Tsukki, but the one who needs a few lessons on education is you."

Bokuto and Oikawa curiously turned to observe the new figure who was about to join them for their short practice.

"Tsukki-kun!" Bokuto excitedly greeted him from a distance.

"Look, if it's not Glasses-kun." Oikawa commented as he spun one of the volleyballs between his hands, ready to throw it in the air and serve from behind the white line.

The colored ball went up into the air with a single push from the setter, so strong that it narrowly missed the ceiling.

Oikawa's eyes were fixed on his goal as his legs walked slowly, pushing him forward and allowing the entire palm of his hand to hit the ball squarely. The noise thundered through the walls of the court and the gaze of the small audience that watched him barely managed to follow the course made by the colored sphere.

A perfect serve in terms of technique and execution, worthy of a true king. The ball hit the opponent's side of the court, close to the end line, but still inside it's limits. If they were in a real match, Oikawa would surely have scored an ace.

"Incredible," murmured Kuroo. Although they were always practicing together, Oikawa’s serves never failed to impress him.

Bokuto's eyes were closed due to the wide, typical smile that bloomed across his face. "That's what I'm talking about!" He celebrated. "Nice serve, Oikawa!"

Oikawa wiped away a single drop of sweat that dared to run down his brownish hair with his palm, letting out a convinced laugh.

"Thank you, Bokuto-chan," his expression twitched the moment his hands touched his knees. Brown irises once filled with joy and pride, now darkened in concentration. “Come on, captain. Let’s show them we’re the best attacking duo they’ve ever seen.”

Kuroo snorted and turned to Tsukishima. "Tsukki, it's showtime."

Despite the game being resumed as a friendly match, none of the players treated it as such. The concentration spread through the looks directed at themselves. Bokuto didn’t even need to say what his next spike would be as Oikawa was able to read him like the back of his own hand while pulling out the best from Bokuto. At the same time, even though they didn’t play together, Kuroo and Tsukishima shared an enviable synchrony, expressing their intentions through simple gestures and short words.

With each flow of air being cut, each crash of the ball hitting the floor, each explosion or touch of the block, a point was scored, however, none of the four kept the numbers in mind.

A thin layer of sweat could be seen on their faces, their skins shone and the lack of oxygen previously filling their lungs left them breathless. A burning pain took over those already affected by the exhaustion and fatigue of their tired muscles.

Bokuto was exalted with every successful move, praising and thanking Oikawa for the quality of his tosses. Eventually, his vibrant energy and competitiveness infected those around, who found themselves showing small smiles and sharing celebratory gestures. Even from Tsukishima, who clearly was the quietest among the rest. The captain's effect on the rest of his team was undeniable. Bokuto had a peculiar and essentially pure aura, capable of sharing with everyone in the same environment part of his lively characteristics as if they were volatile, traveling through the air and making its way inside their skins without further restrictions. The Fukurodani’s captain was like the sun, a star that shared part of its innate energy without thinking twice.

Kuroo's hands followed Tsukishima's to create an impenetrable block.

"No!" Bokuto exclaimed, pulling at the strands of his half platinum hair. "I can't believe I missed that one," he hit his own head with the palm of his hands in punishment. With depressed eyes fixed to his shoes, Bokuto turned to his setter. “Oikawa, I’m not worthy of your tosses. I don't want to play anymore today.”

Bokuto's sudden mood swings were nothing new to Kuroo and Oikawa, considering that this was bound to happen at least once in each match.

“Bo, you know that’s not true. You’re the best volleyball player I know.” Kuroo said, attentive to Bokuto’s change of posture, which slowly rose to radiate his natural glow.

"You're right!" With both hands on his hips, the captain looked again at his setter’s brown eyes. “One more time, Oikawa! This time I'm going to get it right for sure!”

As expected, Bokuto's parallel spike went beyond the limits imposed by the blockade and reached its goal on the opposite side of the net.

"Hey, hey, hey!” His clenched fists went to the sky at the same time his dazzling grin crept into his face. "Wow, that was a really great toss, but my spike was even better."

"I could barely see the ball at all." Kuroo murmured in disappointment, letting his warm body meet the cold floor and sinking into that refreshing feeling. "I think I need a hot bath and a soft bed," defeated, Kuroo completely surrendered to tiredness.

“Thank you, Bokuto-chan and Glasses-kun. If you don't mind, I'll leave now and see if I can get some time with my Iwa-chan,” Oikawa quickly said goodbye, barely showing any signs of exhaustion.

"Tomorrow we’ll call you again, Oikawa!" Bokuto waved to his colleague.

Tsukishima gathered his belongings and went to his dormitory as soon as possible. The effort made by him was greater than in some official matches of his team, as he only recently discovered reasons to fight and give his all; Yamaaguchi definitely needed to be thanked for that.

Bokuto and Kuroo were the last ones to leave the court, both excitedly discussing their moves and the parts they needed to improve. For them, every chance to play and demonstrate their skills was unique and special, a time to reflect on their mistakes and successes.

“Bokuto, see if you get some rest. Don’t forget about our match tomorrow, I’m sure Ubugawa won’t be an easy opponent,” Kuroo hugged Bokuto’s shoulders and smiled softly at him, feeling the ache of his muscles vaguely spreading to the rest of his body.

"Leave it to me! Tomorrow I’ll be a brand new man, ready to show them my best spikes,” The captain proudly replied before chasing after his well deserved rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear there's a reason for Bokuto to be portrayed like this, but just to be clear I don't think he's an idiot at all
> 
> A coin for your thoughts?  
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Reverses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto Koutarou didn’t expect that July 19th would be such a meaningful date, capable of creating a scar settled deep within his own. Yet, the fateful date marked him cruelly, like hot iron on the skin of innocent cattle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back!  
> Since I finished chapter 4, which is the longest chapter, I decided to update early. If I keep this pace, I might update this twice a week ~
> 
> Today we have songs!  
> You can start with [Ignite](https://open.spotify.com/track/39rqDP2s2hN1JtXptyeM3u?si=MuiZKIW7Sy6JUawQusXOzw) and then to [Way Down We Go](https://open.spotify.com/track/1YA7YUyrxgSzf7IQDX1xcl?si=8ELMMh9YQzeHapLOkjLVng) after Karasuno's play
> 
> And literally, way down we go  
> Enjoy!

Bokuto Koutarou didn’t expect that July 19th would be such a meaningful date, capable of creating a scar settled deep within his own. Yet, the fateful date marked him cruelly, like hot iron on the skin of innocent cattle.

"[Bro](https://open.spotify.com/track/39rqDP2s2hN1JtXptyeM3u?si=RgS4vkrzRPajTUOWCHhSMg), I'm so excited for our matches!" Bokuto said while stretching and relaxing his upper limbs.

The captain was unable to hide his enthusiasm for the training camp that was barely beginning. His feet couldn’t stand still for ten seconds before being pushed off the ground in small jumps, so as his upper limbs, moving up, down, sideways and adding into his exercises’ routine all possible and imaginable movements. Even his chatter became even more insistent, not allowing silence to perpetuate any further. Bokuto’s only organ that remained focused was his pair of golden eyes, fixed on the court and on the players’ dynamism like a bird of prey studying its next hunting target. Despite Bokuto's relaxed appearance, his dedication to the match was undeniable. He was capable of changing his mood in mere seconds, which soon reduced the observing crowd to dreamy sighs due to his dazzling smiles.

"Man, their serves are strong," commented Kuroo, impressed by the skill and power of the opposing team. "Poor Yakkun."

"Hi, Kuroo-san." Fukurodani’s libero caught his eye in a very unfriendly way.

Yaku's tone of voice didn’t go unnoticed by Kuroo, who felt a shiver running through his spine at his libero’s arrival.

"Were you maybe saying that I can’t take it?" Despite the distinct difference in size between them, Yaku looked at Kuroo as if he were six-feet tall. "You should know that I’ll receive those serves with everything I have so that we can win this match!" Proud and confident of his talent, Yaku hit a fist against his own chest.

"Yaku-chan certainly scares me with all his angry outbursts," Oikawa, who was watching the scene nearby, silently mumbled to himself, terribly afraid that Yaku would hear him out and scold him too.

The players from both teams straightened up in two separate rows on each side of the court to greet each other. That officially announced the start of their training camp. A male choir could be heard, and before they took their positions, their respective coaches called their teams for a final brief talk.

“Let's take this training seriously. Accept these matches as a chance to put new plays into practice and improve not only those already known, but also your interactions as a team.” Kiyoko said out loud, suddenly framing each player in order to give them the necessary attention. Her expression softened shortly thereafter, her arms no longer tense around her torso. “Each of you has amazing skills, but together you’re capable of making them exceptional. Remember that and let's teach them how to play a true volleyball match,” she finished her speech with a wide grin, adjusting the square pair of glasses over her delicate nose.

Encouraged by Kiyoko's words, Fukurodani’s team exhaled one last cry together and each took their respective positions.

Eyes on the ball and concentration on the court.

And so the summer training camp began.

Ubugawa chose to start with jumping serves of an incredible amount of strength using minimum effort, as if all players were more than used to overworking themselves at all times.

Yaku received the first one with excellence, sending the ball upwards due to the great impact.

"Sorry! That went too high!” Said the libero, not even caring about the redness that took over his forearms.

"Don't worry, Yaku-chan, I'll take care of this one," Oikawa calmed him down and positioned himself exactly at the end of the ball's course, analyzing his options and deciding who would have the best chance of scoring against a double block that was starting to raise itself on the other side of the net.

"Over here! Give it to me, Oikawa! Me!" Bokuto waved his arms incessantly, trying his best to get the setter's attention.

"Right away, Bokuto-chan," Oikawa's feet left the ground a measly inch before guiding the ball with his deft hands, knowing that his captain had a passion for it to be placed high and further away from the net. “Score that point, ace.”

Oikawa knew, as did the rest of the team, how to set his own captain on fire.

Thirsty for the ball like a dog after a bone thrown into the distance, Bokuto jumped without losing sight of his goal. His eyes instantly saw a missed spot in the block ahead, a breach between the player's body and the curvature of his arm; a perfect parallel begging to be explored.

Bokuto pulled his shoulder back, smiling almost maniacally. He knew he was going to carve that ball on the opponent's court.

The play itself lasted only a few seconds at most. The speed the ball traveled had been too much, making the task of following it almost impossible and explicitly showing the amount of strength used by Bokuto the moment his hand hit the ball.

Before Bokuto could return to the ground, the referee had already raised his arm towards Fukurodani’s court, signaling the scored point.

Bokuto closed his eyes and both hands, bringing them closer to his sides in celebration.

"Yes!" Bokuto exclaimed. "That was incredible, Oikawa!" He extended an arm towards the setter with his thumb up, thanking him on his own way.

"How dirty you are, Oikawa," Kuroo snarled with a grin, contrary to the implication of his choice of words, his voice was light and held signs of an implied joke.

"Me?" Oikawa remained still, playing dumb. "How can I say this..." he paused briefly before his expression darkened curiously. "If I know how to get the best out of my dear teammates, why not do it?"

“Hey, hey, Kuroo! Did you see that spike?” Bokuto asked with a proud grin.

“It was incredible, Bo. You were great.” Unable to hold himself, Kuroo wrapped an arm across Bokuto’s shoulders and disheveled a few strands of silver hair, regretting it immediately after getting his hand full of Bokuto’s sticky hair gel.

"Now who's playing dirty, huh?" Oikawa said maliciously..

“Is Ubugawa cheating? Really?" Bokuto's alarmed gaze shifted between Oikawa and Kuroo.

"No, no. That’s not what we’re talking about. It's just that…” Kuroo stopped and his shoulders dropped as a sigh left his mouth. He knew it’d be useless to try to explain something so abstract to his captain. Besides, there was a fair chance that this could become a huge misunderstanding.

"I see what you mean now! I’m such an awesome player that you thought I was hiding some cards under the table, right?” Bokuto laughed unhurriedly. "You’re both so funny."

Kuroo exchanged quick glances with Oikawa, who simply shrugged and ignored the rest of Bokuto's smug interpretations.

Fukurodani didn’t offer Ubugawa an opportunity to show what they were there for. The absorption of all players made Ubugawa’s task even harder to be accomplished. Although this was an open and relaxed match, Fukurodani acted like it was worth a title. Their movements were concise and calculated, with only minor mistakes yet to be worked out. The interaction between the players made their fans vibrate, completely overwhelmed by the emotion and energy that came from those who showed their best on the court. With that same disposition, Fukurodani won the first set by 25-14.

“Kenma, did you see how he flew up there and bam, spiked the ball with all his energy! Then he pulled himself together and swoosh, ran out again, finding the breaches on the block and more! And the one where he tricked the whole team by faking a spike so that in the end he could just tipped the ball on Ubugawa‘s side!” From the stands, Hinata Shouyou was very excited about Bokuto's well-executed plays. His eyes were filled with an indescribable admiration for the ace as his body allowed his emotions to flow out of it as needed, freeing the bubbling sensations inside Hinata’s small body.

“Were you even paying attention to the match, Kenma?” Hinata put himself between Kenma and his video game, forcing him to look back at Hinata.

Kozume Kenma, Nekoma’s setter, sighed deeply. “The game isn’t over yet, Hinata-kun,” noticing Hinata was determined to stay there simply staring at him if Kenma didn’t answer to his question, he continued. “And yes, Bokuto-san is an excellent player, that’s exactly why he’s among the top five in the country.”

Satisfied, Hinata threw himself against the cold surface while an out of tune grumble left his lips. “I know, he's amazing!” Hinata quickly straightened his body. “Hey, Kenma. You think someday I’ll be as good as him?”

Kenma nodded quietly, saving his precious voice.

Before Hinata could celebrate the almost compliment, Kageyama popped his bubble of enthusiasm.

“Obviously you still have a lot to work on if you want to reach that guy’s level. At least you’ve already got the same annoying personality,” he mumbled with both arms loosely crossed.

“What you’re saying, Bakageyama!?” Hinata stood up, ready to jump at Kageyama if his anger reached that breaking point.

“Exactly what I said, idiot. If you don't understand that, better clean those ears or look yourself in the mirror.” The remark was enough to instigate Hinata’s annoyed mood as the boy approached Kageyama to pester him even more.

Clearly bothered by the fuss right beside him, Kenma sighed again and decided to dedicate his time and attention to his game.

“The second set is about to start,” Kenma announced.

Somehow, Kageyama fought Hinata back to his place. He fixed his disheveled hair and slapped the back of Hinata’s head. “You should pay attention to the match, dumbass. Soon it’ll be us against them.”

Hinata contained all of his feelings and childishly stuck the tip of his tongue out at Kageyama. “Don’t think I’m watching that only because you said so. I’m doing this because I want to beat them!”

The second set was not much different from the first one. The pace previously imposed by Fukurodani remained intact until the match officially came to an end. Despite the difficulty in receiving Ubugawa’s jumping serves, Yaku exceeded expectations and had a performance worthy of a real match, demonstrating the results of his tough training with refined reflexes and impulsive, but audacious decisions. Kuroo also stood out, being admired by those watching him. Although blocking was considered as one of Ubugawa's main strengths, as well as serving, Kuroo demonstrated dexterity in deflecting the opponent's plays and preventing the ball from reaching Fukurodani’s side of the court.

After scoring the victory point and greeting the other players, Fukurodani’s team dispersed slightly, trying to recover some of the energy spent for the next match against Karasuno.

"Congratulations," Kiyoko cheered her players, taking advantage of their time while Ubugawa finished their punishment diving session around the court to say a few words. “You all played a great match and worked hard, but we can’t lose that energy now. We have ten minutes until Karasuno is on the court,” She took her clipboard and walked to each one of her players, pointing out some of their mistakes and also praising them for their plays.

"Kuroo, I really want to play against Chibi-kun," Bokuto, who was now completely thrown to the cold floor, looked at his best friend with a fervent expression.

"I heard they trained really hard and have a lot of new interesting plays to show," Kuroo squirted water from his bottle and wiped the sweat gathered around his face with his shirt.

"Nice! Now I really want to play against all of them.” Like Kuroo had just thrown gasoline into a fire, Bokuto lighted up, eyes burning with a distinct desire from the implied challenge.

"It's just a practice match, no need to overdo it, Bokuto," Kuroo gave the captain a friendly slap on the back and stood up when he heard his name being called by Kiyoko.

“Don't worry, Bro! I can handle it!” Bokuto shouted back so it could reach Kuroo’s ears. With both eyes closed, he took a deep breath and forced himself off the floor, suddenly missing the cold feeling against his scorching skin. "Alright!" He framed his face with both hands, lightly patting his cheeks before he felt energized again. It was as if Bokuto wasn’t physically able to disconnect, always keeping an eye out; a whirlwind of different sensations and feelings running through his mind and body at all times.

Karasuno entered the court slightly intimidated by the presence of Fukurodani’s players, but also confident, not allowing fear to get ahead of their desire to win and be at the top. All Karasuno wanted was to overcome their past haunted by Seijoh and rise again, assigning to themselves the symbol of regeneration owned by the ravens in ancient mythology.

"Tobio-chan, I hope you learned something during the time you had," the rotation of both teams made Kageyama and Oikawa meet on the net, already exchanging barbs through their eyes.

"I think you’ll have to watch and learn, Tooru," replied Kageyama, sharing the same internalized feeling of hatred and extreme competitiveness.

The dilemma between Oikawa and Kageyama had been established long ago through the envy of both, no matter how much they refused to admit it. Oikawa felt threatened by the skills shown by Kageyama at each game; its potential was undeniable and incomparable, a threat to Oikawa’s reign. However, Kageyama lacked versatility and experience, attributes which Oikawa possessed and paid no mind in hiding, quite the opposite, the setter was fully aware of his excellence as a player and wanted to make sure that everyone else knew it too. And that was exactly what made Kageyama's blood boil.

Bokuto took his position after winning the coin toss and choosing to let Karasuno serve.

"I hope your team scores so I can see you play, Chibi-kun!" Bokuto shouted, waving his hands at Hinata's direction to get the boy’s attention.

"You can do it, Asahi-san!" Karasuno’s libero, Nishinoya Yuu, encouraged his ace, Asahi Azumane, who bounced the ball in front of his feet, anxiously waiting for the referee's whistle.

Despite the lessons learned by Tsukishima when practising with Fukurodani, being face to face with their ace was very intimidating. Bokuto's energy made his whole body vibrate in synergy, making his skin practically sparkle. Tsukishima had never faced a player of such high level and never had he felt so terribly excited for a match to begin.

And even though he was aware of Bokuto’s moves, even though he was fully able to read some of Oikawa's looks and decipher Bokuto's intentions, the first point went to Fukurodani.

At first, Karasuno seemed unstructured and totally out of the syncrony you expect to see from a volleyball team. It was clear that for them, this training camp was being used for its original purpose, without carrying the weight of an official match on their shoulders. Their serves, although strong, didn’t have a settled target. Their tosses were inaccurate, as well as their receives and spikes, when they had the fortune of getting them right. Even so, Karasuno’s players didn’t give up, as if each mistake only encouraged them to fight even harder for the points needed to reach Fukurodani on the scoreboard, which was already 10-4.

However, when Hinata was on the court, Fukurodani’s entire team noticed the change in their plays. Hinata’s presence was enough to make Karasuno’s gears twist around each other, bringing his team alive like an old machinery in need of oil. He alone was able to lift his team even higher, offering them an even greater fighting spirit, which seemed completely lost before.

The match changed completely the instant Bokuto witnessed the power of Karasuno's enhanced quick spike.

The short rally had a normal start, in which Fukurodani performed a jumping serve easily received by Nishinoya. However, Hinata's early movements suggested that something in that would be different from all the other plays already made by the team. Before the ball could touch Kageyama's fingers, Hinata started running at full speed, jumping even before the setter could think of who was going to spike that ball. The ball’s course didn’t follow the usual drawing of a parabola and Hinata saw the ball freeze midair right in front of his hands, like it knew exactly where he would be. It remained static, but still in rotation, defying many laws of physics. Hinata, now acting as a wing spiker, hit the ball and sent it flying toward Fukurodani’s court.

What impressed Fukurodani’s team the most was not Kageyama's toss or Hinata's ability to run at the speed of light, but the small time it took for the play to be finished, no more than ten seconds.

"Wow! That was incredible, Chibi-kun!” Bokuto, still amazed by Hinata’s abilities, praised him truthfully.

"You really think so?" Bokuto nodded. “I started running as soon as I saw the ball getting closer to Kageyama and then when I jumped the ball stopped right in front of me, just like it did when we practised. That was awesome!” Hinata jumped, inebriated by joy with both of his eyes shining brightly.

“Oikawa, can we make this play too? Please?" Bokuto walked over to his setter, pulling at the sleeve of his shirt and twisting his lips into a pout, just like a child asking his parents for a favor.

Oikawa's answer came with a loud slap on Bokuto's hand. “Stop playing around, Bokuto-chan. We still have a match to win, remember?” His features were understanding and peaceful, but everyone knew that deep inside Oikawa wanted nothing more than to use Bokuto's head as his personal volleyball during his next serve.

"Okay, okay," Bokuto repeated to himself as he returned to his position, obviously sad that his request was so vehemently denied.

Unfortunately, time placed itself as Karasuno's biggest enemy, blocking their attempts to test their newest plays and allowing Fukurodani’s team to take the reins of the match once again.

The scoreboard almost indicated the end of the first set, 22-12. Karasuno had an even worse performance than Ubugawa, considering the amount of errors and inconsistencies that had taken over since the first referee’s whistle. Despite that, it was clear that the team had a hidden potential; the crows were slowly showing their wings and preparing to take flight.

Yamaguchi Tadashi never stood out as a volleyball player, his skills were not comparable to any of his other teammates. His spikes were predictable, his blocks mediocre and his serves weak, with a notorious lack of passion. Yet, Yamaguchi was the only one capable of ending Fukurodani’s streak with his floating serve.

The boy was already considered Karasuno’s most valuable player with a score of three straight aces. The freckles around his cheeks were colored with a reddish background, from both nervousness and Yamaguchi's excitement.

[Then](https://open.spotify.com/track/1YA7YUyrxgSzf7IQDX1xcl?si=uRRNazlcSOa9Wo69_g7fdA) came the fourth serve, wrecking Fukurodani's solid structures and breaking down each and every member with consequences that would follow them for several months.

Yaku's startled reception forced the ball to travel through a different course, going towards the stands instead of up. Oikawa ran to reach it as he could, since he knew they couldn't waste a single opportunity to attack, not after losing so many chances to Karasuno’s floating serve. Furthermore, Oikawa was well aware that his captain was getting a little moody with so many mistakes. Truth be told, no player was fond of dealing with Bokuto's dejected mood.

The ball's course remained diffuse, going too fast due to the strength Oikawa needed to put in his toss in order to try to fix it. Even aware of its poor conditions, Bokuto accepted the challenge and felt responsible for winning that rally for his team.

"Bokuto, you won't be able to spike this one, just make a pass!" Yaku warned him, watching the disaster unfold before his eyes.

Despite looking straight ahead, Bokuto was taken aback by the strange way in which the ball crossed the court. His body twisted while one foot still remained on the ground before giving him the necessary impulse for the jump. All his limbs were stretched to their limits and, almost miraculously, Bokuto managed to touch the ball with his hand and guide it to the other side of the net. Unbalanced, Bokuto's body was falling, but his feet still tried to make one last contact with the polished floor in order to lessen the impact.

It was then that Bokuto felt one of the worst sensations of his entire life, as if his muscle tissue and bones had been destroyed by a flow of acid and then brutally ripped apart, piece by piece of what still remained. Bokuto was surprised for a moment, a gasp left his parted lips as he heard his knee snapping, and then his face was only capable of showing clear signs of pain. His hands instinctively slid to the place where the discomfort intensified with each passing second.

The game had been interrupted and Kuroo was the first to run towards his captain, who was completely anchored to the ground.

"Bokuto, are you okay?" Kuroo rested a hand on Bokuto’s shoulder as his eyebrows furrowed in genuine concern.

"I..." Bokuto breathed heavily, forcing his lips to form a weak, fake smile. “I'm fine! Great, even! Why is everyone looking at me like that?” He tried to act like nothing happened.

"You’re hurt, Bokuto-san," Oikawa said without hesitation.

"Me? No, I'm fine,” Bokuto denied Oikawa’s statement, but in his shaky voice there were no signs of confidence.

"Then get up." With his arms crossed and a troubled expression, Oikawa practically ordered.

"Okay," Bokuto rested both hands on the floor to help him and bent his left leg, the one that didn't throb like an aggressive migraine.

As he tried to follow the same movements with his right foot, Bokuto felt a sharp pain violating every inch of his right knee, forcing him to fall against the cold floor again.

Kiyoko watched the scene from a distance and the moment Bokuto fell while trying to get up, she knew that an intervention was in dire need.

“Somebody call an ambulance, please! We need to get him to a hospital as soon as possible.” Never before had Fukurodani’s players heard such a desperate voice from their coach. "Where's the nearest hospital?" Her eyes silently pleaded for answers.

"Kiyoko-chan," Oikawa touched her arms. “We are going to take him to Iwaizumi, okay? I'll call him and let him know that we're on our way,” he tried to calm her down as much as possible with his touch, but seeing she was still tense, he decided to keep talking. "Don't worry, Iwa-chan is the head of the orthopedics’ division, he will know how to take care of Bokuto-chan and make him feel okay," Oikawa smiled as he noticed Kiyoko's shoulders relaxing as he talked to her.

"Thank you, Oikawa-san," she smiled softly at him. After releasing a short breath from her lungs, she turned to Kuroo.

“Can you carry him when the ambulance gets here?” Kuroo nodded and Kiyoko looked at Bokuto's condition, she couldn't help but feel her heart swelling for his weakened state.

Bokuto rested his head on Kuroo's thighs after a while, simply accepting his body’s decision and trying his best to avoid thinking about the pain, which was becoming hard to ignore.

“I bet it's just a strained muscle. You’ll recover quickly, Bo,” Kuroo mentioned, trying to convince both Bokuto and himself of that.

“Of course I will! Do you think I’ll let you shine during National’s by yourself?” Replied the captain.

When the ambulance arrived, Kuroo carried Bokuto on his back to the vehicle; the captain's right knee was noticeably more swollen and red than the left one, which made his task of trying to stand even more difficult. Both joined Kiyoko, Oikawa and Yaku, those who were anxious for a diagnosis of their dear captain. The paramedics asked several questions, both to Bokuto and the others, and finally decided to just immobilize his right leg for now as an attempt to lessen his discomfort.

"I already called Iwa-chan, he’ll be waiting for us when we get there," Oikawa said.

"Hey, Oikawa," Bokuto called him. "I hope this boyfriend of yours is good, because I want to be giving my all on our next match," he forced a short laugh.

The setter snorted in response. “If anyone can make you feel, it's Iwa-chan. He's a great doctor, just like I’m an amazing player,” Oikawa's cheeks flushed discreetly as he praised his boyfriend.

"If that’s really true, I'm sure Bokuto will be in good hands," said Yaku, assigning to himself the responsibility of keeping others’ emotions, and even his own, under control.

When the ambulance arrived at the hospital, a man stood outside wearing a white coat with dark brown hair and a serious face was waiting for them.

"Iwa-chan!" Oikawa got out of the vehicle before anyone else, running towards Iwaizumi with open arms, but the doctor prevented a hug from happening by pressing his hand on Oikawa’s chest. “Not now, Shittykawa. Tell me what happened while we go inside.”

Bokuto’s friends described the scene as they could, complementing pieces of information missing from each other's stories and assisting Iwaizumi in thinking of what could have happened to leave Bokuto in that torturous state. Despite the desperate and detailed reports, Iwaizumi was still unable to be assertive about Bokuto's diagnosis, and soon sent him to go through a series of imaging tests.

In the waiting room, the remaining four were lost within their apprehension, expecting news regarding Bokuto's current condition. Oikawa paced back and forth, moved by his own unquiet thoughts that caused him to chew the corners of his fingers and even his own nails. Yaku sat next to Kiyoko, distracting her from the current situation with small talk, always attentive to her expressions. Kuroo was standing, slightly further away from the rest of his friends, watching the flow of people outside and also paying attention to the howling wind shaking the canopies.

"I hope he’s fine," Kuroo mumbled when he saw Oikawa’s reflection through the glass approaching him. He sighed, forcing the palms of his hands against his eyes. “Who am I kidding? It’s so obvious that he’s not well, Bokuto couldn’t even set his foot on the floor due to the pain,” his voice cracked, as if on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

"We all know that he’s not doing well and that it will probably get him off the court for a while," Oikawa spoke out loud what everyone else was too afraid to say or even think about. "The point is, now we need to help him get over this," he squeezed Kuroo's shoulder, offering him a friendly gesture of sympathy.

"This will end him, Oikawa," Kuroo stared at the setter's face for a while, his face clearly showing signs of suffering for his friend.

Oikawa parted his lips to reply Kuroo's comment, but when he saw his eyes widen and change their direction, he turned to face Iwaizumi's serious gaze.

The doctor cleared his throat unnecessarily, as all eyes turned to him the moment he walked in the room.

“I took a look at Bokuto's exams and he tore his anterior cruciate ligament along with an injured meniscus, probably due to the impact when he fell. I already sent him to surgery so we can repair the previous damage and prevent others from happening.” With both brows furrowed, Iwaizumi took a deep breath before speaking. "I’m afraid he won’t be able to play for a while."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, we're just going up in this rollercoaster of angst  
> Hope you liked the chapter and please leave a Kudo or a comment if the story caught your interest
> 
> By the way, next chapter there's Akaashi's intro and some Bokuaka moments (and more angst)
> 
> Here's my [tumblr](https://starks-wings.tumblr.com) if you'd like to scream at me


	3. Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I wanted to thank everyone who's following this story and left a kudo and/or a comment. That means a lot, so thanks for the support!
> 
> There are two songs for this chapter:  
> 1\. [Another Death in the Life](https://open.spotify.com/track/7pxq2S7kHQwjpYt8ha5nDy?si=ojTauyLNQ2Ktjv_hZg1Lhg), from Age of Adaline OST - starts from the beginning and it ends after Bokuto got home  
> 2\. [Heartbeats](https://open.spotify.com/track/2xyDUZMsOMcQemQfZlXmFn?si=0cR3W6rgSuiL6lBVb0cbjA), from Yuri on Ice OST - starts after Akaashi's talk with Sugawara and it goes until the end
> 
> Enjoy!

“[And](https://open.spotify.com/track/7pxq2S7kHQwjpYt8ha5nDy?si=S6bQy3JiTku0i3jk2gUYSA) how long are we talking about here?” Kuroo asked as he took short steps forward.

"It depends on many circumstances," Iwaizumi uncrossed his arms, trying to soften at least his expression. “I don't know how his body will react during his recovery and I don't know how the physiotherapist will work with him. It's not just my job that matters here, but...” the doctor paused dramatically. "Unfortunately, I believe that less than a year is waiting for a miracle, considering his current state."

"You’ve got to be kidding me," Kuroo’s voice dropped a few octaves and his facial features darkened considerably, like the approach of dark clouds from a raging storm about to pour. "One year!? You can’t be serious. This can’t be true,” his words were barely comprehensive, putting on evidence his despair.

"I understand the situation-" Iwaizumi was abruptly cut short.

"That’s bullshit! You don’t understand a thing," Taken by a sudden rush of adrenaline, Kuroo's heart pounded brutally against his chest and his breathing followed the lines drawn from the rhythm imposed by his heart. “Volleyball is everything to him. This is the last year he has to play and give his all in order to join a professional team. He will be devastated,” Kuroo closed his hands forcefully and felt his short nails digging into his white skin. "This will ruin him." Tears gathered on Kuroo’s lower eyelids, blurring his vision but not daring to run down his face.

"Kuroo..." Oikawa tried to calm him down, but as he tried to reach for his shoulders, his hand was brutally slapped away.

"Don’t. Just don’t.” After the peak of his anger was gone, Kuroo lowered his gaze. "You should be aware of that too. You all know how devastated he will be."

"Kuroo-san, we’re here to help him and we’re not giving up until he gets better," Yaku spoke up, trying his best to sound hopeful.

When the situation seemed to have reached a supposed emotional balance, Iwaizumi resumed his previous speech.

“I've seen worse cases, Kuroo-san. Please understand that he will be able to play like he did before. This injury is not irreversible.” Despite the coldness demanded by his career, Iwaizumi showed signs of understandment. “I’ll refer him to the most competent physiotherapist I know. He will definitely recover soon. I promise you.”

Miserable, Kuroo just nodded. "Thank you, Iwaizumi-san." When he sat down again, he turned to ask him a few more questions. "How long before the surgery is over?"

"Not much. The surgery itself should take about two hours, but I’d like to do a few more exams before sending him home,” Iwaizumi allowed himself to smile briefly. “His physiotherapy should start as soon as possible, possibly next week, after the swelling and pain have subsided. Sugawara Kouchi is the doctor in charge and his clinic is not very far from here,” he checked his wristwatch. "Bokuto will spend about a month walking with crutches and then he’ll be able to perform some daily activities on his own, seeing as there’s no pain."

“If you have any more questions, I'll give you my personal phone number. You can get that with Oikawa.” A nurse approached Iwaizumi and whispered in his ear. He nodded in response.

"Right. now If you'll excuse me, I need to see a patient. As soon as Bokuto comes out of surgery, I'll let you know.”

The hospital's emergency room, although filled with people, now had nothing but an apparently eternal silence for those four individuals. Nobody dared to say a word, even if they wanted to, taken by a heartache and anxiety so exorbitant that it nearly choked them. With each tick of the clock, helpless glances roamed the room’s doors, hoping Iwaizumi’s figure would reappear. However, as time passed by, only sighs of disappointment could be heard.

"Here," Oikawa broke the tension by offering them a bottle of iced tea.

"Thank you, Oikawa-san." Kiyoko appreciated the kind gesture.

"Now can you please stop being so gloomy about this?" Oikawa said, almost disgusted by the look on people’s faces, getting back only a few angry and confused gazes.

“Do you really plan on going into Bokuto's room with these sad faces? How do you expect him to be fine if everyone else is on the verge of a crying fit? Do you think he’ll feel good about that?” As crazy as Oikawa's ramblings sounded, he could see small signs of agreement. That was enough for him to keep going. “Think a little. It’s not just Bokuto who needs to be strong, we also need to be strong for him.”

"It doesn't matter, you know how he's going to react to the news, Oikawa," Kuroo murmured against the tea can resting on his lips.

“Of course I know. You and I deal with his mood swings all the time,” Oikawa rolled his eyes in disdain. “But if we allow this to let us down too, there will be no one left to save him from those thoughts. Can you at least understand that? I'm just telling you to stay positive and encourage him to get better,” Barely able to keep his arms and hands still, Oikawa tried his best to convince the others of his idea.

"I hate to say that, but Oikawa is absolutely right," Iwaizumi, who listened attentively to his boyfriend's little speech, smirked proudly.

Oikawa's cheeks flushed when he noticed Iwaizumi was closely watching him. “Iwa-chan! You almost gave me a heart attack. That was very mean and rude Iwa-chan!” The setter hid his face between his hands, peeking out of his shell only to stick his tongue out at Iwaizumi.

"Stop making a scene, Oikawa," Iwaizumi shushed him.

"Or what? Will Iwa-chan punish me?” The setter replied smugly, looking at Iwaizumi seductively through half-lidded eyes.

"Shut up, Shittykawa." Embarrassed, Iwaizumi felt his cheeks warming up.

Oikawa pondered out loud. "Make me later, Iwa-chan," winking at the doctor, Oikawa felt satisfied with his partner's clear discomfort and stopped playing around.

If before Iwaizumi felt his cheeks a little high in terms of temperature, now he felt them literally on fire.

"Anyway," Iwaizumi tried his best not to focus on the whispers that spread behind him in the form of discreet laughter. "Do you need a moment to drink some water or do you wish to see Bokuto now?"

"Come on," Kuroo took control of the situation, getting up almost immediately and allowing Iwaizumi to guide them through the hospital's corridors.

It was to be expected that a place of that size was not limited to an emergency room, but nobody could imagine the immensity of the rooms and corridors hidden by pairs of fogged white doors. It was like entering a distinct village; flowing conversations, ongoing discussions, people passing by, loaded utensils. All converging on a single functional system that aimed to do good for those patients.

"Have you told him yet, Iwaizumi-san?" Kiyoko asked carefully as they stopped in front of room 504.

"Not yet," Iwaizumi shook his head. "I chose to wait for you, it’ll help him process the initial impact of the news."

"Hey, hey, hey!" Bokuto exclaimed slowly when he saw his teammates. "I was starting to think you wouldn't come here," he opened both arms as if waiting for a hug.

The room in which Bokuto stayed was the same as the others. The white walls brought a certain peace to the place, which consisted of a bed in the center, a nightstand on one side and two armchairs on the other. In addition, an exuberant ornamental vase stood out for being the only source of color in the room.

The captain was seated with his lower limbs extended, his right leg was elevated and there was a reinforced black post-surgical knee brace, ideal for the purpose of preventing knee movement during that recovery period.

"Bokuto-san," Iwaizumi caught the attention of those golden eyes when everyone snuggled up. “You’ve just had a successful surgery to reconstruct the ligament of your knee and restructure your meniscus. This is a very common injury in athletes, especially while practising sports that require a lot of lower body movement with jumping, running, etc. For now, your recovery will take place at home, keep your leg up whenever possible to avoid swelling and I will prescribe you an anti-inflammatory medicine and painkillers in case you feel any pain. Starting next week, you will start daily physiotherapy sessions to strengthen your muscles and help you with your joint’s movements,” Iwaizumi breathed deeply, gathering not only air but also courage to tell Bokuto the most difficult message.

“I’m sorry, Bokuto-san. Because of your injury, you won’t be able to play volleyball until your full recovery. It is extremely necessary that you follow my instructions and those from your physiotherapist in order to be able to play again without further complications.”

Bokuto's yellowish eyes widened, whether from surprise or fear, and gradually lost their characteristic sparkle. His teeth were showing, but his expression remained intact. "Really? At least I'll be able to play again, right?” He asked, secretly wanting Iwaizumi to answer his question with his half affirmative, half dubious tone.

"Absolutely. It may take a while, but you'll be able to play again. That’s our goal," Iwaizumi said adamantly.

“Take a while? How long is that? You know, doc, I have an important championship to win with my team here and it’d be horrible if this injury prevented me from playing, because I really want to be there with them and score several points in order to celebrate with everyone when we get our hands on that trophy,” Bokuto stumbled over his words, sounding slightly out of tune.

"My guess is one year, but it could be that in less time your body has already recovered."

Iwaizumi prepared internally for a burst of emotions; angry shouts, loud crying and the endless discussions that would follow. However, the doctor was faced with nothing but silence from Bokuto’s downcast look, apparently absent for a few seconds before his small voice filled the void.

"An entire year, huh?" The captain whispered loudly, mostly to himself. "I bet you’ll miss my spikes!" Bokuto rubbed the back of his neck casually and a faint smile settled on his face.

"Of course we will, Bo," Kuroo offered a friendly gesture as he wrapped an arm around Bokuto’s neck.

“You better miss me! After all, in a year I won't be there to play with you anymore,” his voice disappeared almost imperceptibly as he spoke.

Oikawa slapped the back of Bokuto’s head. "If you think we’re not playing together anymore just because we’ll no longer be on the same team, you’re an idiot, Bokuto-chan."

"I am not an idiot!" Bokuto whined.

"Then stop acting like one," Oikawa rolled his eyes and rested his head on Iwaizumi's shoulder; the slight height difference between them helped the setter's intentions. "Hey, Iwa-chan, can we take the idiot home now?"

"Yeah," The gesture broke Iwaizumi's posture, who frowned and turned his face the moment he met Oikawa's brown eyes. "Yes, you can," he felt his face getting warmer as Oikawa’s lips brushed against his neck.

"Thank you, Iwa-chan," whispered Oikawa.

Bokuto left the hospital with the aid of a pair of crutches and a promise that he would follow Iwaizumi's instructions to the letter. He waved the doctor goodbye frantically despite the stinging feeling, not only from the pain, but also the excruciating anguish that slowly consumed him since he could no longer dedicate himself to what he loved most, volleyball. Bokuto was not considered a very exemplary student, so his only chance for a future career stood in the form of the sport he practiced. It was his best opportunity to get out of high school and get himself a scholarship or join a professional team. Yet, Bokuto's dreams were taken away from him cruelly and easily destroyed by his own body. The delicate thread of hope that still existed and the pair of scissors that could decide his fate were being held by unknown people, hands that Bokuto did not know.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay at your place today?" Kuroo asked, reluctant to leave Bokuto alone in that almost deplorable state.

“Of course, Bro. I'm fine, look,” Bokuto’s steps were clumsy as he turned around with his pair of crutches to prove his well-being. "Don’t worry about me!"

“Okay, but if you need anything, call me or text me. Remember to take your meds too,” Kuroo pointed at the bag hanging on Bokuto's arm. "I’ll pick you up next week for your physiotherapy session."

"Yes sir. You know, I think you're spending too much time with Oikawa, because you're starting to sound just like my mom,” Bokuto laughed at his own joke, but stopped suddenly and opened his eyes wide. "Shit, I need to call my mom, she'll be devastated," his voice saddened.

"She’ll get over it," Kuroo said from the car window. "Remember to call me and use the elevator!" He shouted one last reminder before starting the car’s engine and heading home.

Bokuto unlocked the front door of his small apartment and entered the room at the same time he exhaled a handful of heavy air. His house was simple, but it contained elements characteristics of Bokuto's personality. The entrance door offered beforehand a view of the kitchen and living room. They stood out, respectively, for the magenta kitchen wall tiles and burgundy sofa. The colors perfectly reflected Bokuto's sometimes enthusiastic, sometimes dejected mood; a perfect balance between hot and cold. Around the panel belonging to the black furniture in the room, pictures of family members, friends and Bokuto's childhood could be seen, together with delicate wooden statues of owls of different sizes. Bokuto wasn’t afraid to show everyone his personal fixation on the small animal.

The bag of medicines next to the medical instructions were thrown towards Bokuto's table as soon as he stepped into his room. The pair of crutches was carefully placed beside the bed so that the player could finally sink into the comfort of his mattress.

"Oh no, I need to get my leg up," he whispered and stretched to get some pillows.

The difficult part of it was to perform all the required tasks without moving the injured knee. Bokuto shuddered when he felt a sting turn into a throbbing pain, spreading around the newly reconstructed joint.

As he lay down, Bokuto stared at the ceiling, allowing his mind to wander on the most recent events. He thought about volleyball with a certain sadness in his eyes as he understood that he might never again play the sport in which he was so passionately engaged. At first, his relationship with volleyball was nothing more than an obligation, but the moment Bokuto learned to love the sport and accept it as an intrinsic part of himself, he knew that he wanted to go through that path and enter that particular universe for the rest of his life; not only for being good at what he did, but also for the satisfaction and pride of showing a beaming smile at the end of each and every match.

At that moment, while staring at the emptiness of the inviting silence, Bokuto found himself lost for the first time in his life.

“It's going to be okay, isn't it? I know it will,” unaware of the tears streaming down the sides of his face, Bokuto murmured one last time before closing his eyes and giving himself up to exhaustion.

"How are you feeling?" Kuroo asked the instant Bokuto got in the car.

"I feel great!" Bokuto smiled broadly while giving Kuroo a positive gesture with his thumb.

"And are you excited?"

"For what?" Bokuto barely seemed to understand why he was getting a ride from his best friend at that time.

"For your first appointment with the physiotherapist," Kuroo said as if the answer was obvious.

"Oh, that," Bokuto leaned on the car’s window for a brief moment before reacting positively. "Of course! I can't wait to get rid of those crutches and this knee brace. God, how I miss my old knee pads. I really want to use them again!” Bokuto moaned in despair.

"There it is, my good and old Bo," Kuroo lightly patted Bokuto's forearm before making his way to the clinic.

"I’m not old!" Bokuto crossed his arms and parted his lips in surprise. “Bro, does the color of my hair make me look older? It can't be, my amazing hair is turning against me!” He pulled at his black and white locks, though not hard enough to ruin his characteristic hairstyle.

During the short drive to their destination, although the conversation between the two flowed as usual, Kuroo didn’t fail to notice some details in Bokuto's expressions and gestures; the speech more dispersed than normal, the gaze sometimes absorbed in the void or in the urban landscape, and especially the smile, which gradually lost its liveliness so majestic and contagious.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?" Kuroo asked for about the fifth time.

"Kuroo, I know you love me a lot, but I think you can handle being without me for an hour or so." Bokuto brought his face close to Kuroo's. "I believe in you."

"Okay, I get it," Kuroo said, giving up on trying to convince Bokuto otherwise and shoving him towards the door. "Call me when you're done and I'll come to get you."

"I think this idea of having a private driver isn’t that bad," Bokuto laughed as he got out of the car to get his pair of crutches from the back seat. "See you later, Bro!" He waved and turned to meet the quiet street ahead of him.

As he crossed the clinic’s entrance door, a funny smell ran through Bokuto's nose and he found himself instinctively closing his eyes to appreciate the sweet, natural scent that seemed to fill the place.

The receptionist soon noticed Bokuto's reaction, letting out a light laugh in response.

"Liked it? It’s fennel,” her voice startled Bokuto, who slightly lost his balance

"I’m so sorry!" The receptionist got up quickly, relieved to see that the patient had straightened up. “I didn't mean to scare you. You just seemed to like the smell.”

“It's incredible! It makes me want to lie down and never get up again,” Bokuto tilted his head back, longing for more of that intoxicating and relaxing aroma. "I even forgot about my pain, how funny is that?" He laughed out loud.

"That’s exactly the point," said a new male voice, calm and cautious, like it came from heaven or somewhere above.

Bokuto opened his eyes and met a face quite suitable to the voice he had just heard. The gray hair and round face of the man wearing a white coat showed even more tranquility, in perfect harmony to his peaceful voice.

"You must be Bokuto Koutarou, it's a pleasure," the man held out his hand. "My name is Sugawara Koushi, I received your information from Doctor Iwaizumi."

Bokuto leaned on his left leg in order to greet the doctor. "The pleasure is all mine, Sugawara-san."

“Please, no need to be so formal here. Just Sugawara is fine,” the doctor gestured dismissively. "Follow me to my office, please."

Sugawara made his way through the clinic's narrow corridors until they entered an extensive room filled with different equipment. Bokuto's curious eyes hovered over each piece attentively, expressing all his admiration; mesmerized by the variety of instruments available. It was like entering a gym for the first time.

The instant his gaze found a figure of slightly wavy black hair, his body became completely paralyzed and his surprise was stamped all over his face, particularly around his bright colored eyes and the subtle curve of his lips. The man should have been almost the same height as Bokuto, if not a few inches lower. His body was thin, but still fit. Bokuto's attention, however, was kidnapped by the dark steel-blue color of the stranger’s eyes; it was like going deep into the ocean and feeling the air being gently taken from your lungs as it disappeared into the depths.

"Bokuto-san, this is my resident, Akaashi Keiji."

Akaashi bowed politely. "It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bokuto-san."

Still in a complete state of numbness, Bokuto felt a pair of hands on his shoulders. "Come on, sit down," Sugawara helped him to the chair next to Akaashi. "Akaashi-kun is one of the best professionals I’ve ever had the honor of working with and teaching, and he’ll be in charge of your sessions, Bokuto-san." When faced with the player's silence again, Sugawara started to worry. "Or if you prefer, I can take over them without any problems," he smiled awkwardly.

"No!" Exclaimed Bokuto. “I mean, I'm sure you two are great professionals or Dr. Iwaizumi wouldn't have sent me to your clinic so promptly. Then, I’d be very grateful for anyone's therapy. And if you, Sugawara, say that Akaashi-san is fully capable of helping me, then let's do it! I'm excited to start the exercises.” Bokuto’s both hands held firmly on the chair's seat as he rocked his body back and forth, trying his best to contain his energy in the form of anxiety, but without any success.

"And I’m also very happy to meet you, Akaashi!" He smiled widely at the physiotherapist now in charge of him.

"Great!" Sugawara celebrated. "I already left all of your exams with Akaashi-kun," he stood up, turning to his resident. "Take a look at his knee, it might be better to start with Maitland or a cold compression and see how he reacts." Akaashi nodded. “Well, if you need me, I'll be in my office. If you can't find me, ask Yachi-chan.”

"I'm sure you’ll get better soon, Bokuto-san."

As soon as Sugawara left the room, Akaashi cleared his throat.

“Can I help you lie over there, Bokuto-san? I think it’ll be more comfortable for you,” the doctor pointed to a nearby stretcher with enough devices to elevate Bokuto's injured leg, if necessary.

Akaashi helped him to his feet, hugging Bokuto's waist and allowing Bokuto’s weight to fall on him when walking without touching his right foot on the floor. The path, although short, required additional effort from Bokuto, who showed clear signs of discomfort.

"Thanks, Akaashi!" Bokuto smiled with his eyes tightly shut. “Is it okay if I just call you Akaashi? I mean, we'll probably be spending a lot of time together from now on so I thought it’d be okay to call you that. I also don’t tend to be so formal with other people.” With a neutral look and a small smile blooming on his face, Akaashi nodded again.

"There’s no problem, Bokuto-san."

Taking possession of a small clipboard attached to an appointment sheet, Akaashi spoke again. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"Go ahead! I’m always ready for any question,” Bokuto grinned confidently.

"How was your first week after surgery?"

Bokuto didn’t spare any details when presenting his individual considerations from the previous week, mainly about his pain crises that barely let him sleep and the difficulties in carrying out daily activities considered rather simple, such as bathing and redoing his bandages. Bokuto's routine had been turned upside down; the time that was previously occupied by practice, now became an empty space in his agenda. A space that opened doors for Bokuto’s millions of thoughts, which gradually revealed the darkness that inhabited him.

"Right," Akaashi made some notes. "And if you could give a score to how much pain you’re feeling right now from zero to ten, which grade would you choose?"

Bokuto's face tightened, choosing if he was going to answer it honestly or not.

"Seven." He chose the truth.

Akaashi's pen paused on the paper. "Do you want to take a painkiller?" His gaze was filled with a subtle concern, almost imperceptible.

"It probably wouldn't be a good idea," Bokuto scratched the back of his neck, clearly ashamed. “I shouldn't be taking that many and I already swallowed about three pills this morning. I'm not going to die because of that, am I?”

Akaashi's eyebrows went up. “You did take a lot of pills, Bokuto-san. You'll be fine, but it might be better to wait a few more hours before taking another dose,” he got up shortly afterwards. "I'm going to get an ice pack to put it on your knee and then I'm going to do a light massage to ease your pain."

"Thanks, Akaashi!" Bokuto looked pleased with the physiotherapist’s intentions.

Bokuto's signs of his pain were infinitely mild. Although not clear, Bokuto hid most of the discomfort within himself, showing only a facade of white teeth and a corner of wrinkled eyes. Akaashi was not sure, but he carefully observed some signs, such as the way Bokuto pulled his injured leg more than usual, the strength with which his hands grabbed at his other leg or a closer surface. He knew about Bokuto's pain, yet he was surprised as Bokuto seemed incredibly sincere in reporting such a great amount of it. Most patients would rather lie, but not him.

Upon returning, Akaashi briefly examined Bokuto's right knee and gently rested the ice pack on the injury. “If it gets too cold, let me know, please. Let's wait for your leg to get a little more numb to make sure I won't hurt you during the massage.”

"Akaashi, don't worry about that, I’m very strong!" Bokuto puffed his chest. "I can take a little pain."

The physiotherapist blew a handful of air through his nose. "I think you take it even more than you should, Bokuto-san."

No more than ten minutes passed before Akaashi heard Bokuto's small whimpers along with his excessive shifting.

“Akaashi, you think we can start that massage now? My skin is starting to burn from the cold.”

"Right." Akaashi removed the cold compress and carefully patted the area with his fingertips. "Do you feel anything?" He waited for Bokuto's denial to continue. "Tell me if you feel any pain, please."

Akaashi's fingers circled the center of Bokuto’s injured knee, feeling the muscles and bones underneath his skin until they rested in the peripheral direction. His movements were concise and slow, but also careful and well articulated. The physiotherapist slid his fingers on the side of Bokuto's knee as if he was pushing his joint and slowly forcing it to move from one side to the other.

"Wow," Bokuto watched Akaashi's maneuvers in awe, hypnotized by how his hands seemed to float over his knee. "This is amazing! It’s like the pain is slowly spreading to the other parts of my knee and disappearing,” he let out a grunt of satisfaction. “This is a thousand times better than any medicine. You’re amazing, Akaashi!”

Despite maintaining his usual indifferent expression, Akaashi was unable to avoid the pink blush that covered his cheeks. "Thank you, Bokuto-san."

"I'm serious! What’s the name of what you’re doing? This thing with your hands.” Bokuto bent his neck forward in order to appreciate Akaashi's work more closely.

“It’s an area of physical therapy called manual therapy, as if we literally use our hands to heal. And this is a knee mobilization, or Maitland method. It’s used precisely to make the pain go away at the same time that I work to strengthen your joint,” Akaashi peeked at Bokuto while explaining about his work technique and saw his golden eyes shining with the purest and most innocent interest. Bokuto's reactions were sincere and terribly resembled those of a child.

"I must confess that I didn't understand much of what you just said, but it all looks really cool," Bokuto babbled almost incoherently, still delighted with each movement of Akaashi's long fingers. "It's like your hands really have healing powers," he tilted his head to the side, a hint of a smile forming on his lips. "Your hands are very pretty, Akaashi."

This time the compliment was enough to disrupt Akaashi’s concentration. He lessened the pressure on Bokuto's knee and felt his face get even hotter. His patients always praised Akaashi's diligence and his hands, thanking him for the excellent sessions and saying how skillful the doctor was.

But that was the first time someone called his hands pretty.

"That’s very kind of you, Bokuto-san. I'm just doing my job.”

Bokuto hummed aloud. "So I can say for sure that you’re doing a great job." The physiotherapist thanked Bokuto for his kind words, though he chose to remain silent.

Akaashi wrapped Bokuto’s knee with a fresh bandage just as the time for his session had come to an end and said goodbye to him after making sure he was able to leave the clinic without further problems. Outside, a man with tremendously messy dark hair was waiting for Bokuto.

"See you tomorrow, Akaashi!" Bokuto said before being greeted by Kuroo's tight hug.

"So?" Sugawara looked up, now focusing on Akaashi rather than his computer, waiting for an answer. “How was your first official appointment?

"It went well. Bokuto-san is a good patient.” Akaashi refused to meet Sugawara's gaze, looking at his notes and staring at his own hands thoughtfully. "He said my hands are very pretty," he blurted out for no reason whatsoever.

Sugawara expressed genuine surprise, now entirely interested in what had happened during the session. "I see. And what else did he say, Akaashi-kun?" His wicked smile gnarled his angelic appearance.

"Nothing," replied the resident in the absence of any emotion. “I was just using Maitland’s and he started talking about the pain going away and the healing power of my hands. And then, he said that they were pretty.” Akaashi didn’t seem to notice the repercussion that Bokuto’s innocent compliment had on himself.

"Well..." Sugawara searched for Akaashi's hands in order to properly look at them. “Your nails are well manicured, your fingers are very elegant and you know how to work with them. So I’d also say that your hands are very pretty,” Akaashi took his hands back, hiding them under the table.

“The way he said that, it sounded so... earnest,” there was a pause in Akaashi's sentence, as he thought about the best adjective to characterize Bokuto's actions.

"Bokuto-kun really seems to be very straightforward, doesn't he?" Sugawara laughed, forcing Akaashi to follow him during that laid back moment. "Come on, now tell me more about his condition and what you’re planning to do during the next sessions."

[For](https://open.spotify.com/track/2xyDUZMsOMcQemQfZlXmFn?si=YtaT9YaCTc-8g_95V85rAg) the rest of the week and the next two, Akaashi continued to work with the same techniques he used on the first session, adding extra small exercises and examining Bokuto's reactions and progress as a whole. Gradually, Akaashi encouraged Bokuto to drop some of his weight when walking and worked hard to re-establish his joint movement and remove from Bokuto the incessant pain that brought him so much discomfort. Despite the short period of time, the physiotherapist noticed significant progress on Bokuto's knee, which made him sleep peacefully at night as he felt he was doing his job the right way, just as he had been taught.

"Akaashi, do you like volleyball?" Bokuto asked as the physiotherapist bent and extended his right leg.

"Yes, I do," he replied without taking his eyes from Bokuto's leg.

"Really? Did you know that I am, well, I was a volleyball player? I was Fukurodani’s wing spiker, captain and ace,” Bokuto’s words were messy, a hint of melancholy could be heard in the spaces he left between one and the next as they echoed through the room, bouncing from wall to wall, but still filled with confidence and pride.

“You’re more famous than you think so, Bokuto-san. And technically, you’re still a player, only an injured one now.” Akaashi noted.

"That makes sense. You’re a very smart guy, Akaashi. I like the way you think.” Bokuto raised his upper body from where it was previously laid. "What was your favorite position?"

"Since I was a setter in high school and college, I couldn't have a different opinion."

Akaashi waited for Bokuto’s, but was curiously greeted by silence. When he turned to check what could’ve possibly happened, he found Bokuto gaping, his eyes shining with excitement.

“I can't believe you played volleyball too! I bet you were the best player on the team! Wow, how I wanted to see you play, no, how I wanted to be able to play with you. I bet you’d be better than Oikawa! He's not a bad player, but sometimes he won't let me spike and I end up getting upset,” Bokuto exhaled desperately, finding himself slightly out of breath when he finished speaking. His hands went for his hair, tugging at it.

"Why did you stop playing?" He questioned right after, not giving Akaashi time to react to his previous ramble.

“Truth is my father didn't like the idea very much. For him, I should be focused on my career as a physiotherapist, and volleyball would only take my attention away from that,” he lowered his voice, clearly unhappy with the subject being discussed. “I left the team when I was in my second year of college and I never felt a volleyball between my fingers again, just skin, muscle and bones,” he tried to lighten the mood with a poor joke, but Bokuto's eyes showed him that he had failed miserably.

"If you could go back in time, would you have chosen volleyball instead?" For once, Bokuto left the smiles aside and held a serious expression, a rare one to see.

"No," Akaashi said quickly, no signs of doubt within his answer. “I didn't like physiotherapy at first, but I learned to love it with the same intensity that I loved volleyball. When I realized the things I could do for people with my bare hands, I felt the same feeling from when I won a match,” the physiotherapist didn’t seem very eager on sharing part of his personal story with Bokuto, yet he felt like he owned the man for always being so honest with him.

"We’re the same!" Bokuto blurted loudly. “I also didn't like to play volleyball, you know? My parents put me to practice against my will and I didn't understand the fun in that, I just played to win without caring about anything else. But then I felt that moment, that feeling of victory with the crowds screaming your name from the top of their lungs. And since then, everything has been different, like I started to look at it with different eyes.”

Bokuto took a deep breath, staring at the ceiling hopefully wishing he could relive that moment again; to hear people cheering, to feel his limbs burning as adrenaline rushed through his veins and made him think of nothing else if not his team and their match. His hands clutched the thin white fabric that covered the stretcher and his vision suddenly blurred, he felt the sting of tears filling his lower eyelids moments before a single one made its path down his face.

"Bokuto-san..." Akaashi interrupted the exercise and carefully watched Bokuto's emotions taking over him, as he willingly showed a hidden part of himself.

“Hey, Akaashi. Can I ask you something?"

Akaashi blinked twice. "Of course."

"Is it normal to feel pain?" Bokuto's labored breathing caught Akaashi's attention.

"I’m sorry, do you want to stop?" Akaashi put Bokuto's leg at rest and moved away.

“No, not that kind of pain. I'm talking about a pain over here,” he pointed to the left side of his chest. “I feel it all the time. It’s a pain that comes little by little and then I feel like I can hardly breathe, my throat begins to tighten and there's hardly enough air around the room.” Bokuto hugged his left knee and wrapped his arms around his body protectively as if he wanted to cage himself so that nothing or anyone could reach him.

Bokuto gasped for air as his body started to tremble. His emotions slowly collapsed over him, sinking in without further warnings and carrying with them a weight that seemed too heavy for Bokuto to bear in that state of mind. Reluctantly, Bokuto realized the only way to get rid of those feelings was by spilling them out.

Bokuto felt Akaashi's hands on his shoulders and slowly that whirlwind of emotions gradually faded away, as if Akaashi’s touch was able to pull from Bokuto all his troubles and finally free him from the evil he had to endure alone.

That caused Bokuto’s already reddened face to leave its shell.

"But somehow, when I’m here with you, that pain doesn't hurt that much."

Akaashi had never witnessed such a brutal mood shift; five minutes ago Bokuto seemed excited to share his experience, and now he had exposed his naked truth in raw flesh, with feelings so thick and real that they became almost tangible.

The process took place slowly, like a flower waiting for Spring to finally blossom. Akaashi looked into those eyes, either yellow or golden, and the way they started to express joy, illustrated by the tiny wrinkles on their corners. They fell shut at the same time a massive smile took over Bokuto's face, the curve of his lips never seemed to reach its limit, growing sideways and upwards until it left Bokuto's jaw sore. A small gap separated his teeth, giving space for all the air previously compressed in his lungs to leave his body, puff by puff.

There, Akaashi met Bokuto's purest and most genuine happiness

"Probably because you’re awesome, Akaashi!" With all the energy he had left, Bokuto smiled at the person capable of making him forget about his hideous thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so in love with this scene at the ending  
> Here's where you can find me [@starks-wings](https://starks-wings.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Kudos and comments are always welcomed here ~


	4. Immersion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter ahead, sorry if that's not your cup of tea  
> There's a lot going on here and there might be a few triggers of anxiety/panic attacks. So if you don't feel comfortable with that, please don't force yourself on reading
> 
> We have one song at the end and it would be amazing if you listened, honestly, it's an amazing song  
> [As the World Falls Down - Aaron Richards](https://open.spotify.com/track/2fDr2ASQg3fGcsxpTxszK6?si=l4tRmSeiRretTYBmRWo_9w)

Fukurodani’s team ended another endless practise with Kiyoko’s applause. Since their captain was currently taking a time off due to his unfortunate injury, the team had been rebuilt around its setter, who embraced the weight hidden in that simple yellow armband. The ace’s mantle, worn previously by Bokuto, fell on the shoulders of Konoha Akinori, an experienced player and highly versatile in his role. His synchrony with the rest of the team was still troublesome, like a marble block that required some kind of work. However, his game notion and experience as a third-year student offered Fukurodani a chance, even without their main star, to continue to shine on the courts.

“Explain to me again why you are going with Bokuto to his appointment? I should be going with him since I'm the only one who has a car and he can’t walk properly,” Kuroo's locker door was closed as he turned to face Oikawa.

“So that I can see my Iwa-chan, of course. He looks really hot when he gets all professional,” Oikawa grinned deviously.

Kuroo rolled his eyes in disdain.

"Besides," Oikawa continued. "I haven't seen Bokuto-chan in a while and I want to make sure he's okay."

“I stopped by his house last week,” Kuroo waited for Oikawa's interest to show before continuing. “He's different, a little distant. But still insists on saying that everything is fine,” he said with his head down and a hint of annoyance.

“It sucks,” Oikawa stopped whatever he was doing and stared at his feet. “Remember when I was out for two weeks last season because of my sprained ankle? Those were the worst weeks of my life. You want to do something and feel useful, but you can't, you just can't do anything about it.”

"At least Iwa-chan got less cranky and took care of me during that time," the setter’s spirits rose again as he brought back those memories. "He looks so cute when he's worried," Oikawa acted like a girl who was madly in love, repeatedly batting his eyelashes with a hand resting under his chin.

“You two need a weekend together. Maybe then you’ll stop mentioning Iwaizumi's name in every conversation,” Kuroo complained, wearing the t-shirt hung on his arm and startling with the phone just shoved into his face.

“Would you mind typing this to Iwa-chan? I’m tired of saying that he needs a day off to give me attention, but he just says, 'I'm doing my job, Shittykawa' and changes the subject,” Oikawa made a poor imitation of Iwaizumi by raising his voice and furrowing his eyebrows.

"Is Oikawa complaining about Iwaizumi again?" Konoha's voice reached their ears as he walked inside the locker room.

"It's the only thing he does," Kuroo said, meeting Oikawa’s angry expression as both of his arms were crossed at chest level.

"I’m serious, Tetsu-chan! I think I’m starting to feel sexually deprived,” Oikawa played his drama queen card.

"Oikawa, have you tried telling Iwaizumi that you miss him?" Konoha asked.

"Of course not! Iwa-chan as a good boyfriend needs to know that I'm getting bothered by all his late night shifts,” huffed the setter, who avidly refused to speak about any of his most intimate feelings to his boyfriend.

"Then, you should try that and tell us the result. Or don't, depending on what happens afterwards," Konoha touched Oikawa's shoulder briefly before announcing he was leaving. "See you guys tomorrow."

"Okay, problem solved. Now let's resume our previous conversation," Kuroo stared into Oikawa's eyes. "Keep an eye on Bokuto, he’s clearly not doing very well." With his bag on his back, Kuroo stopped by the doorframe for one last message. "If you need anything, feel free to call me."

“Don't worry, Tetsu-chan! If you keep acting so neurotically, you'll get wrinkles all over your handsome face!” Oikawa said as he waved his hands.

Since driving Kuroo’s car was not an available option and Oikawa was responsible for walking Bokuto to his monthly appointment, both got on the train to get to the hospital. Luckily for Bokuto, the place wasn't too far from the station, which saved him from overworking himself.

Most of the time, Bokuto's voice was the one to blame for disturbing the peaceful silence, filling the void with his spirit and the most different subjects. During that short trip with Oikawa, however, the setter found himself as being the one who spoke the most in their conversations. He started and finished them. For someone like Oikawa, already used to Bokuto’s strong presence, this situation was met with eerie eyes, as if Bokuto's constant glow was slowly fading away. Bokuto used shorter and often less energetic responses, while his gaze often got lost between the wagon, the people and the setter sitting beside him.

Naivety was far from being one of Oilawa’s characteristics. He knew there was something wrong with Bokuto, just as Kuroo had warned him.

The only time Oikawa felt Bokuto was being himself was when he talked about his physiotherapy. His yellowed eyes sparkled with gold, a different kind of light could be seen deep within them as his pupils seemed to widen, showing Bokuto's clear interest in the topic.

“I swear his hands are magical, Oikawa. The moment they touch me, my pain is gone. And they are so elegant and beautiful. I mean,” Bokuto turned his hands over, mentally comparing them with Akaashi's. “My hands are big, a little rough around the edges and my fingers are kinda large. His, on the other hand, are so soft and his fingers are thinner and longer. He can easily wrap them around my knee.” Oikawa watched Bokuto's chatter with some amusement, his eyebrows losing themselves even further behind his brownish hair with each word said by his former captain.

“Seems like you found yourself a handsome physiotherapist, Bokuto-chan! I wouldn’t expect a better indication from Iwa-chan,” Oikawa smirked. “When are we going to finally meet him? Maybe on your birthday? It's next month.”

It was Bokuto's turn to grin widely, his entire face lightened up with the implied opportunity. “That’s a great idea! I’ll ask him about it during our next session. Do you think we should go somewhere to celebrate or just order some food at my place? How about karaoke? Man, it’s been so long since we’ve been to one, I need to warm-up my vocal cords!”

“It might be for the best to leave this karaoke idea for another time, Bokuto-chan. You don’t want to scare your poor Akaashi with your singing now, do you?” Oikawa chuckled.

Dodging from Bokuto's failed attempts to hit him and ignoring his protests over Oikawa’s malicious comments, the setter guided him to the hospital where he was first taken a month ago for his appointment with Iwaizumi. Before heading to his office, the doctor asked for new exams to check Bokuto's current conditions, such as the progress of his physiotherapy.

"Well, Bokuto-san, your ligament and meniscus are still intact and in place, which is great," said Iwaizumi with a somewhat cheerful voice.“ How's your pain? Is the physiotherapy helping you with that?”

“It still hurts, but nothing compared to the pain I felt during the first few weeks. I’m doing several exercises with Akaashi and I believe that they’re helping me with this. He said that maybe I can even stop using the crutches soon since I’m kind of walking without them during the sessions already.”

Iwaizumi nodded slowly. "Right."

“I talked to Sugawara-san about your physiotherapy and he told me that you seem to be responding very well to Akaashi’s therapy. In fact, I believe that this month was enough to strengthen the muscles around the ligament to a point that will allow you to walk normally again.” Iwaizumi got up and walked to the other side of the table, where Bokuto and Oikawa were sitting.

He reached out his hand toward Bokuto, a silent request for him to stand up.

Bokuto considered it for a second; part of him doubted his own capacity and another part, deep inside his subconscious, was afraid of the pain that could result from that simple movement. In his physiotherapy sessions, Bokuto had been improving his steps alongside Akaashi, who guided him through the spacious room without the aid of his crutches. Each week Bokuto let a greater percentage of his weight to fall in his right knee, gaining confidence and smiling with every step he took without the usual tortuous sensation piercing through his internal tissues.

However, the tanned fingers gently stretched out in front of him were not those he had grown used to seeing during most of his days. Iwaizumi's hand was broad and lacked half the elegance of Akaashi's. The moment Bokuto accepted it, he realized the texture of his skin varied just as much and he found himself missing the softness with which Akaashi's fingers embraced his own.

Bokuto instinctively closed his eyes when he got up, mentally prepared for a pain that hadn’t been transmitted by his brain. Bokuto’s right leg trembled as he opened his golden eyes to check how his right foot stood against the floor. Bokuto gradually released his weight, holding tightly into Iwaizumi's hand as if his own life depended on it. A puff of air left Bokuto's lungs, not noticing he had been keeping it locked inside his chest until then, and his smile began to push aside his insecurities.

Iwaizumi allowed Bokuto to take as much time as he needed to find his balance, not mentioning how his fingertips turned purple due to Bokuto’s tight grip.

“You are doing great, Bokuto. You can let go of my hand now,” Iwaizumi untangled his fingers from Bokuto's hand and smiled proudly when he saw his patient standing without his crutches for the first time in that month. “Take a walk around the room if you want. When you get tired you can come back and sit down again.”

Bokuto's right leg was shaking badly, like a gust of Alaskan icy wind had brushed against its naked skin. He could barely take short steps forward before staggering. As Bokuto reached out for Iwaizumi's table to keep himself from falling, a loud noise caught his attention and he looked startled in Oikawa’s direction, who stood up so quickly to help Bokuto that his chair fell to the floor.

"Oikawa," Iwaizumi caught his eye. "It’s important that he tries to walk by himself."

"But Iwa-chan..." Oikawa pouted. "He's fine, take a look over there." The doctor nodded at Bokuto, who was walking slowly around the corner of the room, bracing himself up on the walls and nearest objects when his legs weakened.

"This is amazing! Look at me, Oikawa! I'm practically brand new!” Bokuto was breathless as he spoke due to how exhausting that short walk proved to be. "Uhm, I think my leg is getting numb, I don't think I can even go back to my seat," he panted.

With Oikawa’s help, Bokuto returned to his chair.

“I’m glad to see you walking like this, Bokuto, it’s certainly a reflection of your physiotherapist’s good work and your own effort. From now on you will no longer need the crutches, but I will leave it to Akaashi to remove your knee brace now or not.” Iwaizumi collected Bokuto's exams and placed them inside a white envelope. “Now we’ll need to focus on taking care of your muscles and joint, to ensure that you can go back to the courts without further complications. Unfortunately, recovering takes time as we need to make sure that your ligament will not tear again. But you've been doing really well so far,” he slid the envelope to Bokuto. "Give these exams to Akaashi and he’ll give you more instructions on your treatment."

“Leave it to me, Iwaizumi-san! I can't wait to see his face when I walk inside the room without the crutches,” Bokuto got up and walked to the door, but Oikawa remained in his place. "Aren't you coming, Oikawa?"

“Ah, Bokuto-chan, can you sit outside for a minute? I need to talk about something in particular with Iwa-chan,” Oikawa’s short smile was filled with a certain nervousness that only he was aware of.

The moment Bokuto left the room and closed the door, Iwaizumi frowned. "What's up?"

“Stop being so grumpy, Iwa-chan. What if I have some good news to tell you?” Oikawa reached out to Iwaizumi's fingers, intertwining them with his own and observing the contrast of their skin tones clashing against each other.

"Coming from you it can't be a good thing," mumbled Iwaizumi, slightly embarrassed by Oikawa's unabashed approach.

"Rude, Iwa-chan!" He pinched Iwaizumi's hand. "Actually, I just wanted to know if you'll be home early today so I can make us dinner."

"I’m on duty today, so I won’t be able to make it," Iwaizumi's greenish eyes were focused on the movement of Oikawa's slender fingers. "Plus, I’d like to prevent our kitchen from being on fire and then collapsing." Oikawa reacted negatively to Iwaizumi's comment, but softened his gaze shortly thereafter.

"Hey, Hajime," the way Oikawa gently spoke his first name forced Iwaizumi to look up. "I miss you," Iwaizumi gaped at Oikawa's confession.

"Come again? I don't think I heard you the first time,” Iwaizumi had, in fact, heard him perfectly well, so well that Oikawa's voice echoed inside his head. Only on rare occasions the setter expressed himself so sincerely, thinking it was best to hide behind a cynical smirk than to show the feelings kept inside his chest.

"It was nothing, forget about it," Oikawa answered hastily, standing up and turning his back on Iwaizumi. “See you later, Iwa-chan! I'll leave the door unlocked for you,” the setter raised a hand without looking at Iwaizumi’s puzzled face.

"Tooru, wait," Iwaizumi followed Oikawa, placing a hand on top of Oikawa’s on the doorknob. "I'll clear my schedule for tonight, I'm sure someone can cover my shift," he said desperately. “I'll be home for dinner and then we can watch that stupid alien movie that you like so much. What do you think?"

Oikawa's brown eyes shone from the amount of tears that hadn’t dared to fall yet. "Are you really going to watch District 9 with me?" Iwaizumi nodded. "Iwa-chan!" Oikawa wrapped his arms around Iwaizumi’s torso, resting his head on his shoulder fondly. "Thank you, Hajime," he whispered in his ear.

A chill traveled down Iwaizumi's back as he felt Oikawa's warm breath brushing against his neck. His arms returned Oikawa's loving gesture, bringing him closer to his body. "I miss you too, idiot," he confessed before bringing Oikawa's face closer, allowing their nose tips to touch, before sealing his lips over Oikawa's in a quick but warm kiss.

Yachi Hitoka, receptionist at Sugawara’s clinic, was the first person to notice the absence of Bokuto's crutches. Her brown eyes showed nothing but amazement as a wide grin took over the outline of her pink lips. “Bokuto-san, you’re walking without your crutches! This is great!”

Bokuto's impossibly wide smile obfuscated the sight of those who crossed his path due to its innate glow. “Hey, Yachi-chan! Incredible, isn't it? Iwaizumi said I’m recovering very well and maybe I can even remove this horrible knee brace soon. How cool is that?” Bokuto walked slowly to the counter and there he sustained himself, leaning over the woody surface. “Hey, Yachi. Can I ask you something?" Bokuto looked around and said in a low and rushed tone, afraid that someone would hear him.

"Of course!" Yachi brought her ear close to Bokuto, receiving his words in the shell formed by her tiny hands.

“I was thinking about inviting Akaashi to my birthday this weekend. Do you think he’ll go? I really want him to! I think we’re friends. In fact, he’s the person I talk to the most lately and for some reason I tell him a lot of things. That means we’re friends, right?” Yachi chuckled at the rushed and clumsy way the words left Bokuto's mouth.

“I think it's a great idea, Bokuto-san! I'm sure he'll accept the invitation,” Yachi tried to convey confidence through her gentle smile.

"Great!" Bokuto composed himself and straightened up. “Can I go there now? I wanted to surprise him, you see. Can you imagine his face when he sees me without the crutches? Oh man, I bet he’ll be happy, I definitely would be.”

"Let me see," Yachi typed into her computer to know about the room’s availability. "Well, the last patient left a couple of minutes ago, so I believe you can go there now, Bokuto-san."

"Nice!" Bokuto began his walk with somewhat lighter steps than usual. "Thank you, Yachi-chan!"

Bokuto didn’t wait for Akaashi’s answer as he knocked on the door, getting inside the room with familiarity and a harmonious sketch of a grin on his lips. Akaashi, in turn, lifted his face from his paperwork and was slightly surprised when he saw his patient standing and unaided.

"Bokuto-san," he greeted him politely. "I see you don’t need your crutches anymore, that is very impressive."

“Hey, hey, Akaashi! It's great to be able to put my feet on the ground and walk a little, I think I missed all that movement. Though I can't go very far, my legs get all wobbly and I need to grab into something so I don't fall.”

Already used to Bokuto's excessive talk, Akaashi simply showed interest with his eyebrows, waiting for the rest of the speech which he was fairly sure would come.

“Oh yeah, here are my exams. Doctor Iwaizumi asked me to give them to you.” Bokuto approached the desk and placed the white envelope on it before sitting down.

“I never thought walking could be so difficult. I wonder if I had all these problems when I was little. My mom always said I was a premature child, so I think that must be something good, right?” Bokuto's hands didn’t stop for an instant, gesticulating widely and wasting all the energy gathered in his body by the lack of physical activity.

"I'm sure it does, Bokuto-san," Akaashi replied, indicating that despite currently focusing on Bokuto's exams, he still paid close attention to every word Bokuto said, even if they weren’t directed or remotely related to him.

Akaashi's intrinsic personality was established as a classic introversion. The silence rarely bothered him, quite the opposite, it became more inviting with each and every day. Noise, however, called itself as one of his worst enemies, taking Akaashi’s concentration and leaving him often annoyed. Akaashi should feel at least somewhat troubled about Bokuto's incessant conversation, as it wasn’t like him to accept such a commotion without as much as batting an eyelid. Yet, those same set of rules couldn’t be applied to Bokuto, actually, Akaashi could willingly listen to him for hours and still long for more of his helpless speech. Deep down, he simply couldn’t stand seeing Bokuto's desolated side again.

"Hey, Akaashi," Bokuto called out to him while doing a few squats. “We’re friends, aren't we? We see each other everyday and I tell you about literally everything and you never tell me to shut up like Oikawa usually does. So I think you’re my friend.”

The question took Akaashi by surprise.

“You’re my patient, Bokuto-san. I'd obviously never disrespect you like that.”

"Does that mean we can't be friends?" Bokuto pouted, stopping his exercises and hugging the ball that had been previously trapped between his knees.

Akaashi looked away from Bokuto, afraid of giving in to those golden eyes staring back at him so openly. "I'm not sure, Bokuto-san."

“But we spend so much time together! I tell you about my friends all the time and you even told me about your family once. I’m sure that’s crossing the friends line, good friends even,” he complained intensely. "Actually, I think I spend more time with you than with Kuroo and he’s my best friend."

Akaashi's heart skipped a beat and his nervousness became evident through his twisted face. Akaashi never let himself get close to his patients, having acquired a cold and rational thinking during his college years. His father always told him to distance himself from his emotions when dealing with patients, considering that a friendly approach would only bring him pain and make him unable to perform his job with the expected excellence. For Akaashi that was unacceptable, failing in his career was not an option that could happen.

On second thought, Akaashi had never had a lot of friends, perhaps the only one was Sugawara, whom he respected as his superior, and Yachi; if he could even consider her as such. His relationships were restricted to his patients, to whom he devoted a greater portion of his time, but always keeping his distance.

“I really wanted you to go to my birthday this weekend. It’ll be just a small thing to celebrate with a few friends, food and some drinks. Even Iwaizumi will be there, he always tags along with Oikawa. And you can even bring your friends if you want, I don't really care as long as you’re there,” Bokuto sat on the stretcher and felt the weight of the massive ball between his fingers; it was much heavier than a volleyball’s, he noticed. His slumped shoulders gave away his current sadness, clearly upset that Akaashi wouldn’t consider them as friends.

"What about your parents, Bokuto-san?" Akaashi tried to change the subject.

“They live in Sendai. My grandma isn’t feeling very well lately, so they’re going to stay there. But you’re coming, aren't you Akaashi?” Now lying on the thin sheet that covered the stretcher, Bokuto threw the sphere in his possession into the air, still not looking into the deep blue eyes of the one he was talking to.

"I'll think about it, Bokuto-san," replied Akaashi with a sigh.

"Really!?" For Bokuto, it was as if Akaashi had agreed to his invitation. "So I need to give you my phone number and my address," Bokuto got up and made his way to Akaashi’s table, looking for a piece of paper and a pen. "Wait, I think you already have all that information since I’m, you know, your patient, but you can never be too sure, who knows when the system will be down," he looked proudly at his writing. "Done! Now you can talk to me or visit me anytime you want,” he grinned as usual.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san. That’s very generous of you,” Akaashi said before asking Bokuto to return to his place.

Bokuto left the clinic shortly after finishing his exercises. Akaashi still helped him with the most complex ones, especially when his legs gave up on carrying all his weight, but Bokuto didn't give up, struggling until he reached his limit. The knee brace, despite being removed during the sessions, was kept in its place by the physiotherapist as a precaution, which resulted in unnecessary protests from the one who wore it.

“Why can't we just take off that knee brace? I can walk just fine without the crutches,” mumbled Bokuto as he watched Akaashi's hands secure his knee again.

“I don't trust you, Bokuto-san. You have too much energy and I’m afraid you’ll end up getting hurt,” he said honestly. "I promise we’ll get you out of it after a few weeks."

The information hidden by Akaashi was kept inside the white envelope. Bokuto's tests showed progress, but he was still not fully adapted to the insertion between his muscle tissue. Akaashi wouldn’t risk his patient's well-being because of a few whines. Deep down, Akaashi was aware that Bokuto understood the severity of his situation despite the constant complaints.

Akaashi opened the door to Sugawara's office and let out a handful of air as he sat down. “He's doing well. He managed to complete the exercises three to five times without getting tired. I think that in a week or two we can remove the knee brace. I just want to make sure he’s going to be okay,” the last part, even though it was said out loud, was mostly addressed to himself than to the physiotherapist in front of him.

“If he’s fine, why do you seem so troubled? Did something happen?" Sugawara looked at his resident with concern, leaving the patient's exams and notes aside to focus on him.

Akaashi took his time to give Sugawara an answer and when he did, another question followed. "Sugawara-san, is it normal to get close to your patients?"

"Of course, Akaashi." Sugawara offered him a sympathetic smile. "Does this have anything to do with Bokuto?"

"Yes," as he tilted his face up, Akaashi found himself caught in Sugawara's serene and honest expression, which encouraged him to explain the situation. “He asked me if we were friends and invited me to his birthday. But I wasn’t sure how to answer that, because it didn't seem very appropriate,” through his calm words, Akaashi hid the beating of his anxious heart and the cold sweat clinging to his hands.

“Akaashi, did I ever tell you how Daichi and I met?”

Akaashi seemed confused by the change of topic. "I don't think so, Sugawara-san."

Sawamura Daichi, known at the clinic as Sugawara's fiancé, frequently stopped by when Sugawara’s agenda was somewhat free, wearing his typical uniform and the golden badge pinned on the right side of his chest. He always brought along a cup of Sugawara's favorite tea and had an embarrassed smile due to the commotion that Sugawara always insisted on making. Although they didn’t talk much, Sawamura had always been very polite to Akaashi and the rest of the staff, looking like he had a positive influence on Sugawara, who exacerbated his fiancé’s good deeds on every opportunity.

"Well, five years ago Daichi was shot in the shoulder while trying to stop a robbery," Sugawara mentioned with a hint of sadness. “He underwent surgery and started his physiotherapy sessions here. Oh boy, he gave me such a hard time,” he laughed upon the memories now being shared. "Daichi can be as stubborn as a mule, but I still managed to make him listen and follow my instructions."

Akaashi was aware that Sugawara was not only the owner of an angelic face, but also of a strong character, capable of achieving anything he wished through his resolve and intelligence. In fact, Akaashi considered the physiotherapist a role model between the professionals he knew, better than all the others with whom he had worked before.

“He stayed here for a couple of months and we eventually became friends. He used to wait for me to get out of work so we could go to that small coffee shop around the corner. This went on for some time even after he finished his treatment and then, I risked it all by asking him on a real date.” Sugawara's eyes stared fondly at the golden ring in his left hand.

“What I mean is you don't have to be so hard on yourself, Akaashi. I know about your fears and the bad influence your father had on you. But we are human beings, see? It’s normal for us to get close to people, especially those who spend so much time with us. There is nothing wrong in getting close to your patients, after all, they aren’t here just for the physical treatment, they often need comfort, a company so they don't go absolutely insane,” Sugawara rested his hands on Akaashi's shoulders, feeling the tension beneath his muscles.

"Please don't stop yourself from befriending other people because of thoughts that only exist inside your head," the physiotherapist glanced at Akaashi's notes. “You’re no longer a child, you can distinguish between what's right or wrong. You no longer need to be controlled by your father's words.”

Akaashi felt tears burning the corners of his eyes. "Sometimes I think I'm not fit for this."

"But of course you are!" Sugawara argued. “You’re extremely qualified. How can you explain such a good improvement of Bokuto’s condition in only two months?” A long sigh left Sugawara's lips. “You’re good at what you do, Akaashi. You just need to relax a little. And maybe that birthday party can help you with that.”

Akaashi rolled his eyes filled with uneasiness. "You really think I should go?"

"Yes! And I want to know everything about it next week and don’t you dare hide anything from me, Akaashi!”

"Are you implying something, Sugawara-san?" Akaashi looked at him suspiciously.

"Me? Of course not," Sugawara dismissed him with a short gesture. "I'm just saying that Bokuto seems to admire you a lot, mister pretty hands."

Akaashi sighed. "I knew I shouldn't have told you about that."

Sugawara laughed in response, soothing the pre-established tension within his room and even bringing out a snort from his resident.

On September 20, Bokuto's place was in a complete festive mood. Balloons and confettis decorated the front door of his apartment, whose interior was highlighted by loud conversations and music. The apartment was filled with familiar faces, most of them gathered in Bokuto’s living room and small kitchen. Oikawa and Iwaizumi, snuggled on the burgundy sofa, exchanged a few words with Yaku and Konoha, who were arranged around the coffee table, sitting on the white fluffy rug. Kuroo was carrying a glass of water in one hand and a drink in the other; his feline gaze shifted between the blond who had just arrived and the birthday boy.

“Ohoho, Tsukki-kun! I'm surprised to see you here,” Bokuto welcomed him with open arms. Tsukishima turned his face away and raised his upper lip in disgust at the sudden approach.

"I'm only here because someone promised me there would be strawberry cake," he looked at Kuroo, who was now trying to stop Bokuto from hugging Tsukishima.

"After he blows his candles, Tsukki." Kuroo reminded him. “Now take this and go interact with the others. I'll be right there,” he winked and smirked seductively at Tsukishima before turning to his best friend.

"So, Bo, when are we meeting the famous Akaashi Keiji?"

Bokuto's shoulders dropped considerably, as sad as the extended sigh he exhaled. "I hope he's coming but maybe I scared him off with all that talk about being friends," he said as he traced the small drops of water running down the glass in his hand.

“Hey, don’t be like that, we talked about this already and I'm sure he’ll come.” Bokuto felt the comfort of Kuroo's hands on his arms. “Cheer up, birthday boy. We’re all here to celebrate,” Kuroo smiled as he managed to get a small chuckle from Bokuto in response. "Cheers," he ticked his glass against Bokuto's and pushed him into the living room.

There was no information about Bokuto that Kuroo didn’t know about. He was the first person Bokuto called when facing a difficult situation given by the friendship long established between them. Kuroo patiently listened to all of his best friend’s worries, telling him the truth and comforting him when words of that nature were needed. Few people were able to tolerate Bokuto's unpredictable moods, but Kuroo did so at his own will, putting aside all his judgment and prejudice and focusing on the issues to be addressed.

"Bo-chan, sit here," Oikawa rushed Iwaizumi to the other side of the sofa without letting go of him and patted the now vacant spot beside him. "I bet you're getting tired of walking around."

Bokuto lost himself around several side conversations going on around him. His fingers still insisted on touching his phone screen every five minutes or so, waiting for a signal, a message he hadn’t yet received. A disappointed sigh left the empty space between his lips with each visualization as more and more he started to believe that Akaashi simply wouldn’t come. He fiddled with his fingers incessantly as he struggled to show interest when people chased after his attention. All kinds of jokes reached Bokuto’s ears and his laughter, though loud, didn’t reach his golden eyes with the same intensity. Bokuto could hold his mask as long as needed but deep down he was aware that things weren’t the same as before. Everything was different when he was not around.

Bokuto practically jumped from his seat as the doorbell rang and his knee stung as a result of his recklessness. A reaction that didn’t go unnoticed by Iwaizumi.

“Hey, Bokuto! You can't keep making these sudden movements!” Iwaizumi’s cheeks were colored in a soft red due to the alcohol now running through his blood.

Bokuto chose to ignore both the throbbing pain and Iwaizumi’s drunken advice, limping to the door with a hopeful grin growing at each step taken.

"Hello, Bokuto-san," Akaashi greeted him as he bowed shortly. "Happy birthday," he handed him a small red gift box with a golden ribbon on top.

"Akaashi!" Exclaimed Bokuto before hugging his physiotherapist tightly. He felt a small burning itch on the corner of his eyes, but they were soon blown away thanks to the overflowing happiness shown by the huge smile now unfolded on Bokuto’s face. "You came. You really came,” Bokuto found comfort in Akaashi's embrace, who soon returned the affectionate gesture.

Bokuto's chin touched Akaashi's shoulder gently. “I’m so happy that you came. I thought you didn't want to talk to me anymore.” The feeling of Bokuto’s breath against Akaashi’s neck induced a sudden chill to run through his spine.

"That’s not true, Bokuto-san," Akaashi raised a hand; his fingertips tingled from the simple desire to touch the back of Bokuto's neck and get lost within his grey strands. Yet, he decided it was best to rest them on Bokuto’s back for now.

"I apologize for being late. As I walked here I passed by a store and there was something that instantly reminded me of you. Since I didn’t have the time to get you something, I thought it seemed fair to buy it,” Bokuto paid no mind to Akaashi's explanation. His presence was already the most valuable gift he could’ve received.

"That’s fine. I’m just really glad that you’re here, Akaashi! ” Bokuto reluctantly let go of Akaashi’s arms and dragged him inside his apartment, walking slowly to the living room. "Come on, I want to introduce you to my friends."

Bokuto cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention as if they were not already aware of the scene that took place just minutes ago. “Guys, this is Akaashi Keiji, my physiotherapist," Bokuto proudly introduced Akaashi with one of his bright grins.

A chorus of greetings followed and Akaashi answered them individually with special attention to Iwaizumi as they were now working together.

Kuroo reached Bokuto to whisper in his ear. "Offer him a place to sit, Bro."

Bokuto quickly suggested Akaashi to take his previous place on the sofa, but the physiotherapist refused the proposal as he waved his hands.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san, but you are the one who needs to rest,” Akaashi lended him his shoulder, wrapping Bokuto’s arm around it as they moved. “Here, let me help you with that,” he assisted him in going back to his previous place beside Oikawa.

As if he had mind-reading powers, Kuroo watched Bokuto's face fall upon realizing Akaashi wasn't going to be next to him and placed one the kitchen stools beside the sofa for Akaashi to sit.

Akaashi appreciated the gesture and smiled fondly at him. "Thank you, Kuroo-san."

Bokuto's change was extremely noticeable after Akaashi joined the party. His eyes sparkled more intensely, his smile became softer and he felt partially restored, like there was now new blood running through his veins carrying a new magical substance, more efficient than any stimulating hormone. His eyes searched for Akaashi’s all the time, longing to see how he would react to his words and internally seeking approval in each of his intentions. At that moment, there was nobody else but Akaashi in Bokuto’s private world.

"Oh shit," Kuroo mumbled. "I didn't think he was that deep."

Beside him, Tsukishima struggled to contain a chuckle stuck in his throat. “What gave it away? The silly face or the high pitched voice?”

"Tsukki," Kuroo didn’t like Tsukishima’s sarcastic tone. “He's always been like this, but it's different. It's been a while since I saw him look so…alive,” he explained, resting his chin in one hand and letting out a relieved sigh. "Honestly? I'm happy for him."

"Well, our dear doctor doesn't seem very comfortable with all the attention," Tsukishima said as he watched Akaashi trying to contain his jittery legs.

Kuroo snorted, getting closer to Tsukishima's ear. "If he's not as dense as you, I'm sure it won't take long for him to come around," he whispered against the clear skin with a mischievous grin on his lips, admiring how the reddish color slowly spread around it afterwards.

"Back off, idiot," Tsukishima pushed Kuroo’s face away, refusing to look in his direction.

The multilayered strawberry cake was placed upon the table with exactly twenty litten candles as everyone gathered around it to sing Bokuto a happy birthday song with all the energy they had left. It was late at night and a cold wind blew in through the breaches on the balcony window, causing Bokuto’s friends to curl up in their seats as they finished eating their dessert. Despite the weather, they found themselves comfortable in Bokuto's presence, which prevented them from leaving his apartment. Maybe it was because of how much they missed Bokuto’s characteristic energy or his contagious sympathy. Bokuto had this unconscious effect on other people, capable of bringing color to even the most black and white films.

Oikawa, now practically sprawled on Iwaizumi's lap, started to flicker through the television’s channels, casually looking for something that would catch his interest. The decision appeared to be unanimous when a sports channel brought the screen to life and a local volleyball championship was being transmitted.

“The Panasonic Panthers!” Oikawa pointed at the navy blue team.

The team played in their classic striped blue and black uniform against another opponent from Kansai’s region. The game seemed to have just started, but the Panthers' team proved to be in full control of the match with the first set guaranteed and the second set on its way by the score of 12-07. The players had tremendous timing and showed high-leveled skills, attracting the eyes of those who seemed slightly interested.

"Tsukki, did you see how huge that guy is?" Kuroo shook the blonde's shoulders against his loud protests. “I bet he's at least six and a half feet tall.”

A single surprised sound echoed through the apartment during a specific play performed by one of the Panther's wing spikers, who only needed to roar in order to show how animalistic his cut was. The ball bounced off the opponent's court and floated at least half a meter afterwards, offering no chances to the block.

“That was amazing!” Yaku applauded. “Konoha-kun, we have to practice that play next week. We'll definitely shine through the qualifying rounds if we master it.”

"Why are you leaving me out of this, Yaku-chan?" Oikawa got up from Iwaizumi's torso to defend his honor as a setter. “Did you see that toss? He wouldn't have spiked so beautifully without a well placed toss.”

Comments of every nature traveled through the room as the game continued, but all of them seemed to agree that the Panasonic Panthers had a solid team and demonstrated great excellence, which they could use to create their own new plays.

The only one who didn't seem to get into the conversation was Bokuto. As the volleyball match continued being displayed on the screen, his voice disappeared like a magic trick. He followed the players movements with a certain sadness instead of the excitement shown by the others. His hands, now slightly shaking and sweaty, grasped into the sofa’s cushions; the greenish tone of his prominent veins established a contrast between his pale skin and the reddish furniture. His chest heaved in arrhythmic movements, a puff of hot air escaped from his lungs with each full gasp. Bokuto was completely absorbed in his own sensations, the side conversations and the sounds from the match around him were reduced to nothing more than background noises.

A hand rested on his shoulder, waking Bokuto from his agonizing thoughts.

“Are you feeling alright, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked worriedly as he saw Bokuto's reaction.

"Yeah," he replied while nodding repeatedly, almost like a nervous twitch of his head. "Yeah, I'm fine," he tried to fake a smile, but as quickly as he did, it disappeared. “I'm great!” Bokuto tried to convince himself by saying it out loud, but still it didn’t seem to work as the tightness in his chest only increased. “I think I forgot something in my room but I'll be right back. You guys can stay here,” he announced before rushing to his room.

The bedroom door was slammed shut in a loud thud, attracting all the apprehensive looks that had previously watched Bokuto's retreat.

"Well, it seems like that is our cue to leave, Iwa-chan," Oikawa said, dragging a tipsy Iwaizumi with him.

Konoha and Yaku hesitated before waving goodbye at those who decided to stay.

Prior communication wasn’t needed for Kuroo and Tsukishima as they both turned to Akaashi at the same time.

"You should go talk to him," Kuroo broke the uncomfortable silence.

Confused, Akaashi turned down the idea. "Me? You're his best friend, Kuroo-san. I believe you're the most suitable person for that."

“Maybe, but as his best friend I know that he won't listen to me. But you,” the tension shown by Kuroo's stance was blown away after a sigh. "Something tells me he'll talk to you."

Akaashi stared at his lap, occupied with his own thoughts. Seeing no other option, he decided to follow Kuroo’s advice. "Okay, I'll go."

Tsukishima's hand circled his wrist before he could take more than a few steps forward. "Here," he handed him the small red gift from before. "This might help."

Akaashi smiled at the gift, now slightly more confident of the task at his hands. "Thank you, Tsukishima-san."

"Do you want to go?" Kuroo asked Tsukishima when he watched Akaashi’s figure disappear down the narrow hallway.

Tsukishima hummed. "Not really, let's finish watching the game," he pulled Kuroo by the hem of his shirt, throwing himself on one side of the sofa with Kuroo standing between his legs. “And since you're standing, bring me another piece of cake.”

"Anything for you, Tsukki," Kuroo leaned over, propping one arm on the couch next to Tsukishima's head and ruffling his short golden hair.

[Akaashi](https://open.spotify.com/track/2fDr2ASQg3fGcsxpTxszK6?si=xiUjLiKiQs29d25uQRRBQw) looked at the wooden door in front of him as the decision to open it or not was the most crucial of his life. His heart was pounding loudly, half due to his nervousness and the other half possibly scared of how he would find Bokuto on the other side. He had already seen with his own eyes what his sudden mood swings were capable of doing and he innocently thought Bokuto was showing progress on his mental state. However, from experience, Akaashi knew that relapse was always the worst of villains; when everything seemed to be perfectly fine suddenly collapses and brutally tears you apart.

Taking a deep breath, Akaashi knocked lightly as his hands moved to the doorknob. "Bokuto-san, I'm coming in."

The lights in the room were off and the curtains allowed only a few beams of moonlight to pass through, enough for Akaashi's silver-blue eyes to focus on Bokuto's distant figure. His position referred to the first time Akaashi witnessed such a scene during their sessions; knees drawn up with his face in between them, embraced by a pair of solid arms of the one who desperately whimpered on his bed with his hands tangled up in the dark strands of his hair root. The air seemed thin, barely reaching Bokuto’s lungs, who was breathing even faster than he was a moment ago.

Bokuto tried to escape from something he was unable to see with the naked eye. Escape from the sensations that wrapped themselves around his body and knocked him down with the brutal force of an avalanche. It was like falling off a cliff and never reaching its end. Like running to reach a ball that never seemed to get into your hands. A feeling of loss, of something vital he was missing, like the blood pumping in his veins or the air he so desperately tried to breathe. Feelings that Bokuto didn’t know and wasn’t aware of until that painful moment.

"Bokuto-san, everything is fine," Akaashi sat down next to Bokuto and placed one hand on top of his, feeling the softness of his two-colored strands as they intertwined between his fingers. “Please calm down, Bokuto-san. Everything will be just fine.”

Seeing that words wouldn’t be enough to get Bokuto out of his trance, Akaashi chose to intervene physically, a different kind of approach. “Breathe, Bokuto-san. Feel my chest moving and breathe with me.” Slowly, Akaashi managed to disentangle Bokuto’s hand from his hair and pressed it against his chest. He wasn’t sure if Bokuto was going to listen to him, but as he touched Bokuto’s back, he felt him trying to repeat his own movements. “That's it, you're doing very well. Keep up.”

Resting on Bokuto's back, Akaashi's fingers moved in small circles, caressing him over the thin fabric of his shirt without interrupting his deep exhales.

Minutes or maybe even hours passed by without Akaashi realizing. He kept repeating the same words and movements over and over again, as many times as needed until they were successful in steadying Bokuto's pulsating nerves. Calmly, Akaashi felt Bokuto's muscles relax against his light touch. His face tilted sideways, enough for Akaashi to catch a glimpse of Bokuto's swollen eyes. "Are you feeling better, Bokuto-san?" He asked, carefully caressing Bokuto's back so he wouldn’t feel scared.

Bokuto took advantage of the situation and reached for Akaashi's hand, bringing it close to his lips and leaning against it as if that was the only thing currently keeping him firmly on the ground. "Kind of," his voice was barely recognizable, hoarse from the soreness in his throat.

"That's good," Akaashi smiled, breathing a sigh of relief. "I was worried about you."

Bokuto's expression twitched. "You were?" There were signs of hope on the edge of his words.

“Of course, Bokuto-san. I worry about you all the time.” Akaashi admitted.

"As your patient?"

Akaashi shook his head. “Not only as my patient, but as my friend. We're friends, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto’s golden eyes smiled genuinely in response. "I'm glad that you're my friend, Akaashi."

"I'm glad about that too," Akaashi turned his thumb to Bokuto's face now fully lying in his hand, and stroked his cheek.

His eyes fell to Bokuto's chapped lips, clearly hurt from the small bites of his teeth, and stared at them for a while until he looked away embarrassedly. "I brought you your gift since you didn’t have a chance to open it yet."

Bokuto just held out his arms, patiently waiting until the red box was gently placed between his hands. The red gift wrap was completely torn in seconds and the cardboard cover that hid Akaashi’s gift was left aside.

A tiny stuffed owl revealed itself as Bokuto’s eyes grew impossibly larger. “An owl! You got me an owl, Akaashi!”

Akaashi felt his cheeks warming up to Bokuto’s excitement. "It reminded me of you, Bokuto-san."

"That's awesome," Bokuto hugged the small animal and placed it under his chin. “I'll keep it forever. It’ll be my good luck charm.”

"I can assume you liked it, then." Akaashi stretched his limbs as he stood up, trying to catch a glimpse of how late it was.

“I loved it! It's the best gift I've ever got.”

"I have a few doubts about that," Akaashi looked at Bokuto and his owl one more time before speaking again. "I think I should leave so you can get some rest."

Bokuto instinctively clasped his hands on Akaashi's wrist, preventing him from moving. “Stay, Akaashi. Just a bit longer, please.”

Seeing no other alternative at that moment, Akaashi surrendered to the pleading of Bokuto’s golden eyes. "Fine, but only for a few more minutes."

"Why don't you tell me about the owls standing in your living room, Bokuto-san?" Akaashi asked as soon as he returned to Bokuto's side, this time on the bed instead of the cold floor.

The former player recalled the memories of each one of his precious possessions happily, although still emotionally drained, telling all the details about his fascination and how he came to own so many different shapes and sizes of them. His excitement was clear, bringing a smile to Akaashi's lips, who was completely mesmerized by all the pieces that together builded the image of Bokuto Koutarou in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find Bokuto's owl [here](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/61-ilLfa3mL._SY606_.jpg)
> 
> Fun fact: the Panasonic Panthers are actually a real team from the VPleague
> 
> I'm sorry if things seem a bit repetitive but my goal here is to show how Bokuto is slowly getting worse despite looking he's fine on the outside. I know there's a lot of people who feel the same so please take care of yourselves and if you ever want to talk, know that I'm just one message away
> 
> You can find on my [tumblr](https://starks-wings.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you for reading and feel free to leave a Kudo or a comment, it really help us to write!  
> See you next chapter ~


	5. Depth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! I'm back with another chapter  
> I got such a nice response from you guys on last chapter. Makes me really happy to know people are enjoying this story. Please keep commenting :)
> 
> Well, there's a small warning before I recommend my songs to you:  
> 1\. This chapter is very emotionally heavy, so if you find yourselves uncomfortable with any part of it, don't force yourself to read it. Hence the tags of anxiety, panic attacks and depression, such as their triggers
> 
> Songs! They played such a big role while I was writing this chapter, so please (if you can) listen to them. I'll leave them through the chapter as they show up:  
> 1\. [Lovely - Billie Eilish ft Khalid](https://open.spotify.com/track/0u2P5u6lvoDfwTYjAADbn4?si=NUaSfcOmQcWCIcXoUFnVtA)  
> 2\. [Fall on Me - A Great Big World ft. Christina Aguilera](https://open.spotify.com/track/3t7PAG8ByriTrDNWSDCP1x?si=idHDnTEqTxuqtcct64p02A)
> 
> Enjoy!

November arrived and brought a milder temperature to Tokyo. The winds were now more chilly and the drizzles carried away the hot and sultry temperature of Spring, giving away the signs of the approaching Winter. It was the perfect month to make a tour around the most visited places, experts said. The city was colored in red and yellow with the canopies about to lose their foliage. The thermometers showed no more than 15 degrees and the rains were not torrential enough to prevent people from reaching their destinations.

The perfect weather for a volleyball match.

In October, Karasuno defeated Shiratorizawa in an exciting and tiring match. The crows brought down the reign of Ushijima Wakatoshi, one of Japan's best players, and won their place in the National’s tournament which would happen two months later in Tokyo. Tears streamed down the faces of those who tried so hard to be among the best schools. Karasuno had a lot to show the world, and they proved themselves willing to fight for their dreams with courage and dedication. They still had a lot to learn, but they would certainly be formidable opponents in the main tournament.

The following month, it was the turn of Tokyo’s teams, including Fukurodani and Nekoma. However, the one most feared by the players was the longtime champion Itachiyama. Sakusa Kiyoomi, one of the top three aces in Japan, dominated the courts with his extraordinary skills. The credit, however, shouldn't be only his, but also his setter’s, Komori Motoya, highlighted as the number one libero among all schools in Japan. Last National tournament, Itachiyama brought the trophy home, turning the game around after a lost set and winning against Inarizaki.

Fukurodani had all the requirements needed to win the qualifiers and guarantee their place in the National tournament; strength, skill and above all, experience. The team practised hard every day, except during a few well-deserved breaks. Kohona’s connection with the rest of the team as a leading role was established over the days and their bond strengthened even more, as if he was meant to take that part. Still, it was undeniable how they missed a certain player and all his energy. Kuroo tried to add that within his role, encouraging the team during moments when Oikawa lost the line and became more bitter, not saying the fundamental words that the rest of the team needed to hear in order to move on.

Even doing his best, Bokuto was irreplaceable. Kuroo knew that and so did the rest of Fukurodani’s.

Bokuto watched some of their practices, always from the stands so that when the pressure on his chest increased, no one saw him leaving. He rarely stayed until the end and, on the few occasions when that happened, Bokuto spent most of the time hiding behind a silly smile and with his head down. He sometimes talked to those closest to him, but never about the plays and strategies performed by the team. Like Bokuto started to avoid any subject that could possibly remind him of volleyball. And even with the throbbing pain inside his chest, he always made his presence, watching the team he had viciously dedicated himself to celebrating their plays without him, scoring points without him, living without him.

There were no hard feelings, Bokuto was happy to see how his team adapted so well to the difficulties they met and still managed to improve in many other aspects. He had no doubts about the players' ability in court, he would trust and bet on them without even thinking twice.

What hurt him most, however, was not being part of all that progress.

Bokuto, more than anything else, wanted to be there among his team; spiking, serving and even receiving the balls if necessary. Just being there and feeling the warmth of a match, the anxiety of the next move, the energy of a scored point; that would be enough to satisfy Bokuto’s deepest urges. Instead, he stared hopelessly at an empty space, a huge cliff that separated him from his ultimate happiness.

What was once his greatest pleasure had turned into his biggest trauma.

"Akaashi, I'm tired!" Bokuto complained, over extending Akaashi’s name as it rolled out of his tongue.

"Just a few more reps, Bokuto-san," insisted Akaashi. "You're doing well."

"But Akaashi!" He whimpered again. "I did so many already and so many exercises that my legs are getting tired," he pouted like a child, but slowly continued to do as he was asked. “Can't we take a break? Please, only five minutes. Can we go get ice cream? I haven't had ice cream in so long.”

Bokuto slid down the wall on which he was propped up to perform his squats and sat on the floor. The feeling of the cold surface on his fiery back made Bokuto close his eyes and sigh in relief.

Akaashi interrupted his notes to carefully glance at Bokuto’s figure. With both eyes closed and a simple tug on his reddened lips, Bokuto seemed to have finally reached his inner piece, looking completely relaxed. The layer of sweat that covered his skin made him shine as the light gently touched it along with the flush that reached his face and legs given his exhaustion. Under Akaashi’s gaze, Bokuto could be called an angel if Akaashi ever believed in them as he watched his body being consumed by a bright white halo.

Slowly, the golden color of his eyes colored his figure like giving birth to a painting and the previous curve on his lips slowly turned into a smile as he noticed Akaashi’s curious gaze.

"If you complete the exercises two more times, we can go get your ice cream, Bokuto-san," Akaashi turned his face away as soon as their eyes met, embarrassed by being caught looking at Bokuto so intensely.

"Really!?" Bokuto felt energetic again. “Pay attention, Akaashi, ’cause I'm going to do the most perfect squats you've ever seen!”

Bokuto's stance still needed a few corrections here and there, but he did a good job overall, just as he had been doing since he removed his knee brace. An effort worthy of a small reward.

"Sugawara-san," Akaashi called out as he knocked on the door and opened it slowly. "I’m done with Bokuto-san's exercises and I'll be heading out with him for a while, is that okay?"

Sugawara looked up from his computer. "Sure, no problem. But where are you going?” He questioned more out of curiosity than judgment.

"To get ice cream," muttered Akaashi, almost ashamed to say it out loud.

"Ice cream," Sugawara repeated in disbelief before a malicious laugh left his throat. "Enjoy the ice cream, Akaashi," insinuated the physiotherapist before sending his resident out of his office with a hand gesture. "And bring me a chocolate one, will you?"

Even though he had been working with Sugawara at the same clinic for approximately a year, Akaashi had never noticed such a small and delicate ice cream parlor two blocks away. Its blue top with white lacing at the ends gave a certain charm to the establishment, which further enchanted those determined to enter and visit the house. The cream-colored walls resembled its best-selling flavor together with decorative paintings of the most unusual photos of sweets and curiosities about each one.

Akaashi went through every single detail as his senses noticed his surroundings, feeling the texture on the wall with his fingertips or the sweet and dairy aroma that arose from the containers on the counter.

"Have you been here before, Bokuto-san?" He asked, seeing Bokuto didn't seem as impressed with the place as he was.

Bokuto paused thoughtfully, placing a hand under his chin. "I don't think so, but isn't it an amazing place, Akaashi? I bet the ice cream is just as good!”

"Go find ourselves a sear," Akaashi asked, lightly touching Bokuto's shoulder and guiding him to a nearby table. “I’ll take care of our orders, just tell me what you want.”

"No way, Akaashi!" Bokuto complained, taking his wallet out of his back pocket. "I asked you to come with me, so I’ll be treating you this time.” He opened Akaashi’s hand and placed a handful of money without even counting it.

Akaashi’s lips parted as he thought about protesting against that but were cut by Bokuto’s loud voice. “Just take it, please. It's a way of thanking you for being so amazing and so patient with me.” He thought about refusing again, but soon abandoned the idea. Bokuto was tremendously stubborn and Akaashi was well aware that he wouldn’t give up so easily.

He returned to the table with one scoop for himself, a triple for Bokuto and a small bag dangling from his arms with Sugawara's chocolate ice cream.

"Akaashi, the big day is coming," Bokuto mumbled with his mouth full of the strange mix of flavors that now took place inside his cup.

"The big day?"

"Yes!" Bokuto exclaimed, "The playoffs, Akaashi!"

Akaashi vaguely recalled the subject. "The matches have started, haven't they?"

"Since the beginning of this week, yeah. And Fukurodani won them all! We’re already in the semifinals,” Bokuto grinned, though without the strength to keep his lips up. "Kuroo got me a ticket for tomorrow’s match."

“You told me you've been watching their practice sometimes. You think they have a chance to win?”

The question was almost an offense to the person who was Fukurodani’s most loyal and hopeful fan. The one who would certainly abandon all personal ideals for the players there. No matter how far from them, his captain’s spirit would never settle down.

“Of course, Akaashi! They're very good,” again, his smile barely reached his eyes, fixed on his sugary dessert. "You can see that everyone has improved a lot since..." Despite the ice cream, Bokuto felt his mouth suddenly dry. His gaze kept shifting from Akaashi’s face, completely unable to focus. "Since the last match I saw."

Akaashi reached Bokuto's fist quickly as he saw his golden eyes shining with tears and how he started to struggle to breathe. "Bokuto-san," Akaashi tried calling him once, twice, five times, until he felt Bokuto’s pulse becoming steady under his fingertips. "I hope you are aware of what can happen."

“I'm sure we’ll win, Akaashi! Don’t worry."

[Bokuto](https://open.spotify.com/track/0u2P5u6lvoDfwTYjAADbn4?si=9-P-XJdhR4ySHzx6NM8AQw) had never been more wrong in his entire life.

Fukurodani lost the semifinals to Nekoma and got the third place after beating Nohebi. The players, however, weren’t the only ones who lost on that day. Bokuto, who had his eyes of prey fixed on every subtle movement, every step and every turn of the ball, felt instantly sick when he saw how desperation and defeat creeped through the faces of his teammates. The flame that kept Bokuto burning at all times, already weakened, faded along the golden within his eyes.

Bokuto left Sumida's gymnasium before even greeting his teammates, holding himself into his old number four jersey. Unaware of how he reached home, Bokuto staggered through the stairs that led to his apartment. His legs gave out as soon as his feet touched the floor and the door shielded him from the outside, collapsing on his hands and knees. Bokuto's chest was filled with a burning and merciless fire, a pain beyond his comprehension that completely embraced him, leaving him with both hands tied inside the room where no one could hear his piercing screams, neither see his body trembling. Inside his apartment, Bokuto was safe from everyone but himself.

That night, Bokuto laid wide awake. Silent tears streamed down his face as his mind wandered through a thousand and one ways to fix the situation; alternative scenarios in which the end differed, in which victory reigned upon defeat and smiles could be seen instead of crying. Bokuto's fisted hands, previously hitting the soft mattress, now punched his right knee, directly on his scar, a reminder of the source of all his frustrations.

His phone vibrated on the nightstand, becoming the only source of light in the darkness Bokuto currently found himself sinking. Yet, Bokuto chose to ignore it and fall deeper into that endless shadow. The disturbed thoughts chained his sensitive conscience, preventing him from thinking about anything that didn’t refer to his injury or to the defeat he had just witnessed.

If the accident hadn’t happened, if Bokuto's knee was unharmed, if his captain's armband remained tightly wrapped around him, if his strength had lasted until the end, if his legs were able to keep him upright; then, perhaps new paths would be traced and so traveled through. An alternative timeline would be created in which all that suffering simply wouldn’t exist. However, Moros, son of Nyx whose eyes cannot see and decisions are inevitable, by empowering his staff, predestined the immutable fate that now haunted Bokuto's figure with its bitter consequences.

Signs of dawn could be seen on the outside and Bokuto remained still, having as his only ally a small stuffed owl, either wrapped in his arms or abandoned between the bed pillows. His body lacked the energy to move further from his bed and his mind showed no trace of freeing Bokuto from his pertinent mood. Crescent moon-shaped marks stood out on Bokuto's palms and strands of silver hair were spread across the bed and floor; evidences of a long and excruciating night.

Despite being aware of his duties, Bokuto didn’t feel like getting up. He thought of his teammates, his family and Akaashi. He wondered what they would say if they saw Bokuto in such a deplorable state and how they would react to that.

"Pathetic," Bokuto repeated to himself in a low whisper. "They’d say I'm pathetic."

He stretched his arm and groped the nightstand in search of his phone. The screen’s brightness narrowed his sight as he stared quietly at his notifications. 5 missed calls from Kuroo and 15 new messages. He sighed, tired and disappointed by the lie he was about to tell.

All messages were answered with a single sentence:

“I'm fine. It really sucks that we didn't win.”

How many times did Bokuto find himself hiding the truth from others? How many times did he face the truth through a mirror, but still audaciously covered it up? It was easier when they didn't look at him since he didn't have to hide behind masks and unmotivated smiles. However, while they were watching him, Bokuto felt in need of showing only what remained of his optimism and never, for any reason, let his bright smile fall. Who would an ace be, no. Who would a captain be, if not the one responsible for spreading confidence and energy to his teammates? To carry the weight of an entire team on his shoulders and not allowing meaningless disagreements to affect his disposition. That was Bokuto's role.

He had always been the best. And it would be useless if he couldn’t be the best for his team as well.

When the clock’s hands marked five in the afternoon, Akaashi frowned at the room’s door. It wasn’t like Bokuto to be late for his sessions. It happened once or twice and Bokuto always gave him terrible explanations, such as stopping to feed a stray animal or forgetting to lock his door halfway; typical of someone like Bokuto. However, he always came.

Immediately Akaashi knew that something wasn’t right.

"Yachi-san," he approached the receptionist with his lips forming a thin straight line and startled her with his slightly indelicate tone. "Did Bokuto-san call to cancel his session today?"

After rummaging through her notes, Yachi simply shook her head in denial. "I'm sorry, Akaashi-san, but apparently he hasn’t called or texted."

Seeing such an abnormal expression take over Akaashi's face, Yachi asked. “Is everything okay, Akaashi-san? Do you want me to call him?”

"No need to," Akaashi replied, purposely ignoring the first question. “Thank you, Yachi-san. He must be doing something else and forgot to mention it.”

Akaashi walked inside Sugawara’s office, sitting on the opposite chair and resting his elbow on one of his loosely crossed legs. A long sigh escaped his lips and, without being asked, he told Sugawara about what had happened.

“Don't worry, Akaashi. You know what Bokuto is like,” Sugawara said. "I’m sure he’ll show up tomorrow and tell you about the cat he rescued from a tree or something."

“I don't know, Sugawara-san. Something tells me that Bokuto-san isn’t doing well.”

Akaashi felt a cold hand messing up with his dark wavy hair. "You’re being paranoid, Akaashi," his eyes found comfort in Sugawara's brownish eyes, calming him almost instantly.

Akaashi brushed his hands down his face. "Maybe you're right."

"Of course! You just wait, tomorrow everything will be back to normal,” Sugawara took his next patient’s file and left Akaashi alone with his own thoughts.

Although not entirely convinced of that, Akaashi accepted Sugawara's words and internally pleaded for them to be true. Still, with each day they showed their explicit contradiction.

A week had passed and no sign of Bokuto had been seen.

Two weeks and Akaashi felt overwhelmed with uneasiness.

By the third week Akaashi was about to go crazy, simply wanting to go against all of his prevailing principles and personally demand an answer from Bokuto, who showed no interest in answering his messages with anything other than 'I'm fine, don't worry.'

About to leave the clinic, Akaashi gathered his belongings inside a leather satchel and headed to the door. Intense dark circles accentuated the depth of his gaze, witnesses of countless sleepless nights and unsuccessful attempts to contact the one responsible for all his distress.

A bump on his shoulder woke Akaashi from his tiredness and he wobbled backwards. He almost met the ground if it weren't for a pair of hands holding him steady.

"Akaashi," Kuroo hurriedly got closer, shaking Akaashi's body in a silent cry for attention. "Please tell me that Bokuto is coming here." Tsukishima soon appeared beside Kuroo, breaking them apart.

"We’re worried," explained the saner of the two. "Kuroo hasn't seen him in a few weeks and Oikawa mentioned that he didn't even go to his appointment with Iwaizumi." Tsukishima adjusted his glasses with his fingertips and rested a hand on Kuroo's back. "We were hoping he was here with you."

"I..." Akaashi hesitated. "I haven't seen him in almost a month, Tsukishima-san," he sadly revealed. “Honestly, I don't know what else to do. He barely answers my messages and is no longer coming for his sessions.”

Akaashi sighed. "I just want to know what happened to him."

With folded arms, Kuroo turned his face away. "We lost, that's what happened."

Without completely understanding what Kuroo meant, Akaashi questioned. “What do you mean, 'we lost'?"

"He means that Fukurodani lost the semifinals," Tsukishima translated the words that Kuroo tried to say out loud but were too painful.

Akaashi's eyebrows went up. "You mean, the match Bokuto was there watching?"

Kuroo nodded. “He left as soon as it was over or even before it. I‘m not sure,” he gasped as if he lacked air, exhaling it shakily in order to prevent an emotional breakdown. "Since then, it seems that no one else has seen him and everyone who sends a message receives the same fucking answer."

"If he just answered them properly or paid attention to what is written, he would know that we are still on for the Nationals," Kuroo said.

The air froze around Akaashi, not believing in Kuroo’s words. "What did you just say?" He whispered. "Weren't you out?"

"Naturally, Tokyo’s top two are in as there’s a lot of teams here," Tsukishima started to talk, seeing the nervousness coming from the one beside him. “But as this year the Nationals will be held in Tokyo, a third team was qualified. That’s the rule of the house. And look what a coincidence, their team,” he pointed at Kuroo. "Happened to be in third place."

Gears and needles turned, to the point that Akaashi felt his mind travel as fast as a hummingbird's wing beat. "Come on," He passed by Kuroo and Tsukishima, stopping only to realize the two weren’t following him as intended. "Kuroo, Tsukishima, we need to go now."

"Where?' Asked Kuroo.

"To Bokuto-san's place, obviously," Akaashi replied with a measly amount of anger mixed with frustration.

"Wait," Kuroo reached him, holding him by the arms. “Do you think we haven't tried that already? Well, we did and he wasn’t very willing to open the door. Guess what, genius? It’s locked. We can't get in, Akaashi.”

Akaashi snapped Kuroo’s hand. “He may not speak to you or Tsukishima or Oikawa, but he will speak to me. I know he will.”

“You’re too confident, Akaashi. This isn’t just one of his mood swings, this time's for real! He needs professional help.” Kuroo gestured, imposing himself before Akaashi, who simply pushed him back with one hand pressed against his chest.

“We’ll get him all the help he needs. But for now, I need to go after him. We need to,” he corrected himself. Akaashi’s eyes were filled with nothing but a distinct determination.

"Good luck in making him see and accept that." Kuroo looked away, but he seemed more open to Akaashi’s ideas.

“It won't be easy, but I know we can do it,” Akaashi admitted without giving up on his initial proposal.

[Each](https://open.spotify.com/track/3t7PAG8ByriTrDNWSDCP1x?si=ZHZC-xa5QniM8_L1n2573w) step was an eternity for the trio determined to enter Bokuto's apartment and make him really listen, perhaps for the first time in his life, about all the things kept under lock and key by each of them.

Selfishness. A double-edged sword designated by humanity as an unpleasant trait, prevalent in those of poor souls and lacking in charisma, but also a quality evident in the few who knew how to use such pride in the right way. Bokuto was not one of those people; he abused his self-centeredness by aiming for his own prominence, always being at the top as the best and then ignoring others’ opinions. However, would it be selfishness or altruism for Bokuto to deprive himself of his own feelings in favor of others? Bokuto's contradiction divided opinions, including Akaashi's. The same reflection of a selfish man was also the image of a man devoted to anyone other than himself.

No sound echoed through the interior of Bokuto’s apartment when Akaashi lowered the weight of his hands against Bokuto's front door.

“I know you are there, Bokuto-san. Please open the door,” pleaded the physiotherapist.

Akaashi was the last person in the world Bokuto would like to be with during that moment. The physiotherapist had always made him feel as if he could literally spread his wings and fly, taking the grief out of his whole body through a simple touch or the velvety sound of his voice. At the same time, he was the only one who made him fall, dragging out his deepest concerns and forcibly banning them from his mind, though Bokuto always resisted to Akaashi’s unconscious effects.

Right now, Bokuto felt nothing but a resounding helplessness, a weakness that simply didn’t match his usual brightness and at the same time didn’t seem to disappear.

“Go away, Akaashi. I'm fine,” his voice cracked and was barely recognizable as it crossed the walls of the small apartment.

Bokuto was startled to hear a fist bumping on his door. “Bokuto-san, please. I just want to be able to help you. Please let me help you.”

Leaning his head back against the burgundy sofa, Bokuto’s face, once supported by his retracted knees, rose slightly in curiosity. Bokuto considered Akaashi's request silently, but shook his head in denial when he felt that familiar burn taking over his eyes once again.

The words that left Bokuto's lips made him gasp. “I don't need you, Akaashi. I can do this without you, without Kuroo, without anyone.”

Kuroo raised one hand, ready to literally punch the door in frustration, but Tsukishima stopped him.

“Bokuto-san, we know that you are an incredible person. Heavens know I’ve never met someone as incredible as you in my entire life. Only you can be continuously tormented and still keep that smile on your face as if nothing ever happened,” Akaashi fought against his own tears, exhaling a handful of hot air through his parted lips. "But you need to stop being an idiot and actually listen to me," his head bent down until his chin was pressed on his chest. “I don't want to keep yelling on your doorstep, so please open the fucking door, Bokuto-san. I beg you." With his voice softly muffled by the fabric of his coat, Akaashi thought that Bokuto had barely heard him, or worse, decided to ignore him completely.

Akaashi felt his hands move away from the door and soon thought he was being pulled back by Kuroo or Tsukishima. Yet, when he tilted his face up, his eyes found the figure of a raw and exposed Bokuto, entirely different from his usual shiny one.

"Bokuto-san..." Akaashi's arms let themselves be guided by their gravity center, not the Earth, but the person in front of them.

With shaking hands, Bokuto returned the gesture, sinking his face into the space between Akaashi’s shoulders. The tears flowed like a stream, silent, but in abundance. His weight fell on Akaashi's inviting arms at the same time that his legs resigned their function of keeping him steady on the ground. Akaashi distanced himself in order to gently lean Bokuto's head against the wall, but Bokuto’s hands gripped his coat desperately, trying to keep that comforting warmth close to him.

"Bokuto-san, I'm not leaving." Akaashi whispered, stroking the silver hair that, for the first time, wasn’t styled back.

Kuroo knelt beside Akaashi, trying to keep his integrity but failing as he felt his face slightly wet from his tears. "You are an idiot, Bo."

Tsukishima kicked Kuroo’s back and Akaashi looked at him with disgust. Despite their reactions, Kuroo chose to ignore both of them. "We’ll be on the Nationals, Bokuto," he grinned when he saw a simple hint of joy in Bokuto's colorful eyes.

"But the match..." Confused, Bokuto furrowed his eyebrows. "We lost."

Kuroo huffed, not letting his smile disappear from his face. “The tournament will be in Tokyo, you idiot. We’re in by the house’s rules.” Kuroo brought a hand to Bokuto’s head. “Do you understand that, owl head? We are going to the Nationals, it’s not over yet.”

"You aren’t kidding." Bokuto mumbled, still vaguely suspicious. "We’re really going to the Nationals," he said, but with an inquiry tone.

"Did you really think we were losing that easily?"

Like a punch on his stomach, Kuroo gasped as he felt Bokuto’s weight now upon him. “I can’t believe it, this is really happening."

The burning amber slowly made its way back to his eyes, still completely turned towards the one who welcomed him with open arms. "Akaashi, we’ll be playing on the Nationals!" The dazzling brightness of his smile destroyed any of Akaashi’s existing barriers of hesitation, who allowed himself to be honestly guided by Bokuto’s gesture of happiness.

"Bokuto-san," Akaashi called him with some seriousness. "I know you've been through a lot these past few weeks, but we want you to know that we're here for you," he cradled his face gently and felt his heart flutter in response, maybe because of how close they stood from each other or simply embarrassed by the intense golden sparkles of the bird of prey watching him so intensely. “Will you be okay if we find you a therapist? You need to talk to someone about this and I’m afraid Kuroo and I aren’t suited for this.”

Bokuto paused, dragging his teeth into his already injured bottom lip. “I don’t know, Akaashi.”

“Please think about it at least. We just want to get you some help so you don’t have to go through this anymore. Things will get better." Akaashi asked as he quietly pressed his forehead against Bokuto’s.

"You promise, Akaashi?" Bokuto said, his voice nothing more than a gentle whisper brushing against Akaashi’s nose.

"I promise, Bokuto-san," Akaashi mumbled. "You’ve never been alone, just look around you and you’ll see there are dozens of people who look after you and are willing to help you with whatever you need."

"Hey, Bro," Bokuto shifted his focus from Akaashi, who still had his face cradled in his hands. “You may be our captain, but you don't have to carry all that weight on your back by yourself, you know?. We’re a team, right? Our job is to support our captain, our ace.” Bokuto nodded again and again, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to contain his crying if his lips parted.

Akaashi's hands fell from Bokuto’s face, now resting on his lap. "We’re going to bring our good and old Bokuto Koutarou back, no matter what."

Tsukishima, standing with his back against the wall, snorted. "You guys are so emotional."

“Don't be an asshole, Tsukki. Is that a tear I see?” Kuroo teased him, lying on the floor with his arms folded behind his head.

“Must be something in my eye, you idiot. I bet you can't see anything from where you are because of that bird's nest in your head.” Tsukishima replied, wiping the remnants of unshed tears from his eyes.

Kuroo advanced towards Tsukishima, running with his fingertips over the most sensitive parts of his body and forcing him to laugh against his will. His slender body was writhing by the tickling, while Kuroo continued to urge him on with his suggestive words.

The scene resulted in an exaggerated laughter from Bokuto, who hit the ground with one hand several times as a way of expressing his amusement. His other hand, however, was stretched out to Akaashi’s lap in front of him, intertwining their fingers and pressing his calloused palm with Akaashi's slender one in a timid and almost imperceptible gesture, but which made Akaashi smile nonetheless. Not only did he allow Bokuto’s involuntary touch, he also held his hand more firmly. That itself was enough evidence that from that fateful moment, Akaashi’s presence would become as constant as the sun illuminating such vast lands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you decide to scream at me, I SWEAR THINGS WILL GET BETTER NEXT CHAPTER OKAY?  
> I cried enough with this one, so enough making Bokuto suffer
> 
> Fun Fact: That last scene with Bokuto, Akaashi, Kuroo and Tsukishima was supposed to be more of a discussion of the three of them with Bokuto; them telling him how much they cared and how Bokuto should listen and say when he's not feeling fine. BUT, thanks to that song I made everyone cry and hug each other (me included), hahaha. Ops
> 
> Btw, to our Greek Mythology fans, Moros is the God of doom. He wrote the destination and was somewhat considered the spirit of depression
> 
> Thank you for reading and if you're enjoying this so far, please leave a kudo and/or a comment! They mean a lot and certainly help me feel nice about what I'm writing to you
> 
> Send me a very nice hello at [@starks-wings](https://starks-wings.tumblr.com/)


	6. Impetus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, things will get better  
> I can't believe we're almost at the end! Chapter 7 is the last one and chapter 8 is an epilogue with an optional smut scene at the end (I'm still thinking if I'll translate that tbh)
> 
> Thank you so much for all your support! I love to know that people are liking this story so far
> 
> There's only one song for today's chapter and you can listen to it at the beginning only  
> [Two - Sleeping at Last](https://open.spotify.com/track/62CprXvSWsKBvYu3Yba55A?si=_V_WuaMsQrWBKcNYFjgwlQ)
> 
> I hope you enjoy today's chapter!

[Over](https://open.spotify.com/track/62CprXvSWsKBvYu3Yba55A?si=_V_WuaMsQrWBKcNYFjgwlQ) the course of days, Bokuto gradually abandoned his melancholy, rejuvenating as a seed in fertile soil and showing traces of the energy that used to inhabit his body and mind. At the beginning, Bokuto was reluctant on many different occasions, interfering with mainly Akaashi and Kuroo’s tasks, who after the remarkable episode in Bokuto's apartment, were responsible for closely monitoring Bokuto’s exhaustive walk towards his improvement.

The two visited Bokuto constantly for the first two weeks, respecting his recovery pace until he felt ready to face what waited for him on the outside. When that time arrived, Akaashi and Kuroo made sure to keep their promises and join him during a few appointments with a therapist. Bokuto was quiet at first, reluctant to share his feelings with the stranger sitting in front of him, promptly analyzing Bokuto’s every word and gestures, which brought Kuroo and Akaashi into the equation a couple of times. Soon Bokuto started to loosen up during his therapy sessions - Akaashi’s encouragement might’ve had something to do with that; and he could slowly feel the constricting anxiety’s knots being untied. It was like being able to breathe deeply again after keeping all the air trapped inside his lungs. Although things were far from being perfect, they were certainly better than before. And neither Kuroo or Akaashi ever spoke about how sometimes Bokuto left the therapist’s office with reddened and slightly swollen eyes.

In the meantime, Akaashi brought to Bokuto’s apartment all the necessary equipment for Bokuto to perform his exercises. Indeed his mind deserved some rest, but his body couldn’t simply stop right now, not when Bokuto started to respond so positively to his therapy. Kuroo, on the other hand, arrived usually at dusk after an intense round of training for the Nationals. Although tiredness prevailed, he never ceased to encourage and appreciate each of Bokuto’s steps towards his recovery.

Tsukishima's unexpected visits, though, filled Bokuto’s head with doubts.

Kuroo had Tsukishima cornered against the burgundy sofa, closing the distance between them and whispering rushed words into his ear. Tsukishima tried his best to keep the brunette from practically sprawling over his lap like the big lazy cat he often acted as.

"Since when did you two become that close?" Bokuto asked casually during a short break while he curiously observed Kuroo and Tsukishima interacting rather comfortably with each other’s presence.

Tsukishima took advantage of Kuroo's distraction to push him towards the cold floor. His face turned to the apartment's balcony, hoping that no one would notice the deep blush taking over his cheeks and neck. "We are not close," he mumbled.

Kuroo brought his opposite hand to the left side of his chest. "You hurt my poor heart when you say things like that, Tsukki," he whined as if in physical pain, which soon turned into his sly characteristic grin.

"I'm serious," Bokuto crossed his arms. “Are you guys going out or something? Not that I have a problem with that, that's not what I meant!” He apologized in advance, waving both hands in despair.

"Something like that," replied Tsukishima before Kuroo could embarrass him any further with his depraved and unfiltered language.

"He's just shy," Kuroo tried to explain without further annoying Tsukishima. “We’re working on it. Maybe Tsukki will soon give me the honor of being his boyfriend.”

"Maybe if you asked me instead of just assuming," still focused on the horizon seen through the wide glass, Tsukishima said nonchalantly.

"Tsukki," Kuroo approached him on his knees. "Do you wanna go out with me?"

"No," he said without blinking, showing a sadistic smile when he saw Kuroo's face fall between his shoulders. “Did you really think it would be that easy? You'll have to do more than kneel to win me over.”

Kuroo was laid down on the floor now, lifting his head up only to stare at his best friend's face as he laughed loudly. "I don’t see what’s funny about that, Bro."

Bokuto had to rely on Akaashi’s shoulders as his body kept shaking. He could feel his own stomach starting to hurt as his muscles spasmed uncontrollably under his thin gray shirt. "It's hilarious, actually," he wiped away the remnants of tears with the back of his hand. "I’m happy for you. Aren't they cute together, Akaashi?”

"Definitely," agreed the physiotherapist. "Now come on, five more stretches," sensing Bokuto's protest, he said. "And If I hear any complaints from you, Bokuto-san, you’ll have to do five more."

Bokuto groaned, but followed his physiotherapist's requests.

Kuroo and Tsukishima looked at each other, reading each other’s minds as they thought about the same thing. “I don't think we're the only ones who look cute together,” Kuroo verbalized it in a low voice, nodding at Bokuto and Akaashi.

Bokuto wasn’t only mentally afflicted by the time he spent apart from the courts. His body, more specifically his muscles, suffered in a similar way, atrophying little by little and losing the definition they once had. Bokuto was well aware of the changes taking place in his body, the decrease of muscle mass in his arms and mainly in his injured leg convinced him to take his fuss to his physiotherapist.

Akaashi allowed him to return to the gym under one condition: Kuroo had to go with him and watch him during any and all exercises in order to ensure that Bokuto would be returning home safe and without additional injuries.

"Is it weird that I'm feeling really excited to bench press again?" Bokuto asked as Kuroo drove them to their usual gym.

"A lot," Kuroo pretended to be serious, but his snort broke his facade after Bokuto's loud whine. "But I totally understand you, Bro."

“I didn't think Akaashi was going to let me, honestly. He always looks so angry when I suggest anything besides our exercises. It seems like he doesn't trust me when I say I'm feeling good,” Bokuto crossed his arms, slightly upset by the memory.

Kuroo looked at him as he stopped at a red light. "It’s expected for him to react like that considering how much he cares for his precious patient," he teased Bokuto with a playful grin.

"Stop making that face, I can never tell what it means," Bokuto forced him to focus on the traffic by gripping his face and forcing him to look straight ahead. "And don't talk like that. Isn’t it normal for him to worry about his patients?" He seemed unsure of his own recent finding.

"Bro, he ran out of his job to go to your apartment and make sure you were okay."

A brief silence came over the simplistic interior of the vehicle.

"He really did that, didn't he?" Bokuto mentioned, slightly impressed over Akaashi’s attitudes.

“And he even stood there by your side until you fell asleep. Who knows, maybe he even gave you a goodnight kiss,” Kuroo looked quickly at Bokuto and puckered up as he moved with the intent of giving Bokuto’s cheeks a kiss, the same ones that now were as rose-tainted as the flower with the same name.

"Stop it," Bokuto mumbled.

"With what?" Kuroo played dumb.

"That! To keep saying there’s something between Akaashi and me. You've been doing this quite a lot lately,” Bokuto cried out as he raised his voice.

"If I keep insisting on that idea, it must be because I’m seeing something you’re not," he explained. "Come on, are you telling me that you never thought of being more than just a patient or a friend to him?"

"Of course not! The thing is that Akaashi is..." Bokuto paused, trying to find the best fitted words to describe Akaashi’s image as it came to his mind. “He's just Akaashi, you know? He's practically perfect,” he sighed dreamily. “He’s so thoughtful, patient, dedicated, pretty and smart. And I’m just his patient, this walking mess that you call your best friend,” Bokuto chuckled, though his features showed nothing but unhappiness.

"I don't think I'll ever be more than that to him," he added with both eyes cast down, more interested in the mess of flyers under the passenger’s seat.

"And I think you're wrong," Kuroo stopped in the parking lot and patted Bokuto’s shoulder. “Come on, cheer up. I can see a few dark sad clouds coming up above your head. We want to build muscles not tears.”

Kuroo and Bokuto's training was exhaustive and both of them worked hard in pursuit of their goals. Kuroo, as a good friend, assisted Bokuto and advised him on the best exercises to be practiced without losing focus on his own body. After all, less than sixty days separated him from the tournament of his life; the last chance to show everyone the results of so many late hours spent on the court practicing. Bokuto's purpose for being in that same place could even differ, but the motivation that drove him to carry such an excessive amount of weight and the enigmatic satisfaction in every tiny bead of sweat was the same for Kuroo as well. During those few hours of the day, Bokuto could feel his captain’s spirits coming alive, like the sensation of the battered armband surrounding his arm.

There in their small private world, Kuroo and Bokuto were just two enthusiastic volleyball players chasing their dreams as if they were running after a ball on the court during a match.

The most suitable word to define Akaashi at that moment was nervous.

He had spent countless sleepless nights over the past few days thinking of an unusual and new way to stimulate Bokuto's monotonous exercises. At each session, Akaashi could feel Bokuto’s fatigue while performing the same movements that, although tedious, were extremely important for strengthening his muscles and joints. However, Bokuto always demanded more; more efficiency, more effort; more difficulty. He was insatiable. If Akaashi gave him 100%, Bokuto would always find a way of asking for 120%. And Akaashi found himself with his hands tied upon each of Bokuto’s requests. At the same time he wanted to introduce him to a new routine, part of himself was still firmly attached to the fundamentals and guidelines he had devotedly studied for years.

Akaashi had found a reasonable solution to the problem that consumed him during day and night, he just needed to show it to Sugawara and ask for his approval.

The steps of his polished fashion shoes clicked against the tiled floor in harmony with the ticking clock on the wall; impatient and rhythmic. Every time a sudden wave of courage crashed upon him and carried him to Sugawara's door like the tide, the same wave was also the culprit of pulling him back from the shore. Akaashi had full confidence in his idea and didn’t believe that Sugawara would be against that given his absolutely peaceful personality, yet, doubt and insecurity persisted in his mind like the feelings carried by the whispers of his father's image.

A deep breath followed, giving Akaashi a final push as he knocked on Sugawara’s office door

"Come on in, Akaashi," Sugawara called out serenely.

Akaashi, choked by an atypical shyness, entered the room and leaned against the door, causing it to close behind him. His eyes widened slightly when he noticed there was another person inside.

"Sawamura-san, I didn't know you were here," Akaashi greeted him politely. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

“Don't worry, Akaashi-kun. I was just making my rounds and stopped by to bring Suga his tea. I should be on my way."

Sawamura was the culmination of politeness and human warmth, matching Akaashi's old-fashioned ways. Part of his behavior was justified by his profession, a commitment to society and its full-time protection. But, from another point of view, his formality only showed a hidden birthplace of good and rigorous education. One way or another, Sawamura's manners made Akaashi more comfortable around him.

“Nonsense, you don't have to go now, Daichi. You’ve just arrived,” Sugawara caught him by the wrist and trailed his hand down until his fingers intertwined with Sawamura’s.

The sweetness of Sugawara's gaze shifted from their hands to Akaashi's still static figure.

"You wanted to talk to me, Akaashi?"

"Yes. Actually, Sugawara-san, I would like to propose a change in Bokuto's exercises," he cleared his throat quietly, trying to get rid of his obvious uneasiness.

As soon as Sugawara encouraged him to keep talking, Akaashi cleared his thoughts and exposed them out loud.

"I want to play with him," he sighed, partially releasing the fear that had previously prevented him from speaking. “I want your permission to play volleyball with him. We won’t leave the room or go outside, but I’d like to add a volleyball to our sessions and actually practice with him. Small things, like passing the ball and receiving it, exercises that won’t strain his knee so much.”

"Akaashi..." Sugawara seemed doubtful and Akaashi spoke again before he could.

“I know it sounds crazy, but he needs something new, Sugawara-san. Please let me do this for him,” Akaashi insisted.

"Calm down, please," asked Sugawara with a laugh that dared to escape from his lips. “I was going to say that I think it's a great idea. I'm sure Bokuto will love it and I also believe it’s time to introduce him back to the sport slowly,” he stressed the last word, extending its syllables so that Akaashi could fully capture his intentions.

Akaashi's steel-blue eyes sparkled with a different kind of light, one never seen before, and a wide smile disrupted his usual neutral features. He suddenly felt young and reckless again.

"Really!? Thank you very much, Sugawara-san,” he bowed deeply. “I'll get everything ready right now if you excuse me. Sawamura-san,” he quickly said goodbye before disappearing through the door.

Sawamura looked at Sugawara, who could no longer contain his chuckles. "Should I ask what’s so funny about that?"

“I’m so surprised, Daichi. I've never seen this boy so excited about anything like this before,” Sugawara wiped the corner of his teary eyes. "He’s always been so serious and focused, but after Bokuto arrived he turned into someone else completely."

“That seems a bit familiar, don’t you agree, Suga?” Sawamura suggested, thinking about their own relationship. "Don't you think you should tell him or at least offer him some light?"

“I think it's best not to meddle. He needs to find out on his own.”

"And what if he never finds out?"

"Daichi, I'm sure it won't be long before this happens."

The following week, Kuroo dropped Bokuto off at Sugawara’s clinic as usual and Bokuto walked inside the room he was now overly familiar with after greeting Yachi with a wide grin. Bokuto could barely recognize the room as he pushed the doors open, double checking its number to make sure he didn’t end up entering the wrong one. Although he felt something was out of place, he hadn’t been able to pinpoint the cause of such strangeness. The space, perhaps, was wider and with now fewer equipments scattered throughout the place. Bokuto wondered why the stretcher and Akaashi’s table had been pushed so far near into the wall.

Clearly this was related to the man now facing him from the other side of the room.

"Are you ready to do something new today, Bokuto-san?" Akaashi asked, grinning like an impish child with his hands behind his back

"Akaashi, you're scaring me," Bokuto said.

In a quick movement, Akaashi exposed the previously hidden volleyball and sent it towards Bokuto, who instinctively caught it in his hands.

"What..." Bokuto stammered, feeling the light texture between his fingers and becoming fascinated by the uprising emotions that this simple act created.

The surprise on his face grew even larger when Akaashi spoke again.

"Starting today, we're going to play volleyball, Bokuto-san."

The ball fell from Bokuto’s deft hands and bounced as it hit the ground, strolling in the opposite direction from where Bokuto's vibrant eyes seemed to be fixed on. Stunned, he looked at Akaashi as if he represented the mirage of a refreshing and clear glass of water in the middle of a scorching desert. He didn’t show any reaction during the short silence that perpetuated, completely paralyzed as he tried to process Akaashi’s words.

"Are you serious, Akaashi?" His voice was small, almost uncertain.

"Yes, I am."

Akaashi felt a pair of sturdy arms hug him tightly around the waist, lifting him off the floor and making his surroundings literally spin. Desperately, his body sought support on Bokuto's broad shoulders, grounding himself in fear of being dropped.

“I’m so happy, Akaashi! I can hardly believe that I’ll finally be able to play again,” Bokuto voiced his happiness as he sank into the comfort of Akaashi’s chest.

When Bokuto’s euphoria finally came to an end and Akaashi’s feet met the ground, he planned to explain the details of this apparently misinterpreted decision, but when he found a pair of intense golden eyes staring so closely at his own bluish ones, he lost all the ability to speak. The burning on Akaashi’s cheeks spread throughout the rest of his skin when he noticed the compromising position of their bodies; Bokuto's arms still held Akaashi firm against him, now wrapped around his waist while Akaashi’s circled Bokuto's neck in a loose embrace, enough to allow their faces to come closer.

Akaashi paid attention to every detail on Bokuto’s face; from the thickness of his darkened eyelashes to the contrast of his angular gray eyebrow. Small black dots were scattered over his skin and Akaashi wondered how it would feel to brush his fingers through the well-defined curves of Bokuto's jawline. Despite his features, those infamous eyes were the ones that most caught Akaashi’s attention; shining as bright as the stars and with a color as intense as the one tainting the butterfly's wings which now fluttered inside his stomach.

"So blue..." whispered Bokuto. "Your eyes are so beautiful, Akaashi."

Akaashi turned his face away and brought both hands to Bokuto's chest, quickly pushing him away. His heartbeat settled at such a frantic pace that it seemed to echo through the walls of the empty room. He hid from himself and Bokuto, taking a breath and resuming what he had wanted to say from the beginning.

“Well, you're not really going to play a full match now, but we’ll get there eventually, okay? For now, we’ll stick with simple things like passes and receptions. Then, who knows, we may move on to more complex activities later. Sugawara-san and I agreed that it's time to re-introduce you to volleyball,” Akaashi spoke at once, more interested in the ground and the volleyball at his feet than in Bokuto’s reactions.

"Oh," Bokuto seemed upset by the news. "Alright, I still think you're amazing for doing all of this for me, Akaashi!" Bokuto kneeled in front of the ball and touched his fingers to the slender ones that were preparing to take possession of the colored sphere. “Seriously, you have no idea how happy I am now, even though I can't really play. Just knowing I'm coming back makes my heart race.”

Akaashi felt a pleasant light touch on the back of his hand. A gesture so simple, yet so sincere that made him smile as he watched Bokuto’s hand against his own.

“Thank you, Akaashi. For everything,” Bokuto said, showing him a dazzling smile.

The new exercises brought a significant change to Bokuto's routine. He seemed each day both more content and frustrated. His happiness due to being in touch again with the sport in which he excelled and had worked so hard in the past. The dissatisfaction, however, started the moment Bokuto innocently mentioned his intentions to his physiotherapist and friend, not diminishing since then.

"Akaashi, I'm getting a lot better, right?" He asked with his eyes fixed on the ball he was now awkwardly receiving.

“Of course, Bokuto-san. You’re doing very well,” Akaashi was getting ready to serve on the other side of the room, small beads of sweat running down his hairline.

“You know, I've been thinking a lot and maybe I'll ask Kiyoko-san to sign me up for the main team playing during the Nationals. What do you think?"

Bokuto wasn’t stupid, he knew there was a possibility that Akaashi might be against his idea, but he was feeling well enough to face greater challenges. He barely felt any pain and his movements seemed more fluid with each afternoon of practical activity. And there was no better opportunity to return to the courts than during an official match at the last tournament of his time as a highschool student.

Akaashi never finished his serve.

He carefully placed the ball under his arm and frowned as he faced Bokuto's puzzled face. "No," he said harshly. “What are you even thinking? You can't play yet. I know it's been a while since you’ve felt any pain and lately you’ve been feeling better than before, but your joint is not ready to handle all the impact and the chances of it tearing up again are considerably high. Is that what you want, Bokuto-san? To go another year without playing and maybe never return? This is too risky, I can’t let you do that,” Akaashi scolded him sharply, leaving him breathless and with a burning in his chest.

“You can’t and will not do this. This is an instruction from your physiotherapist,” he said still shaken by his uprising feelings, though his voice wasn’t that loud anymore.

“I’ve seen cases of people who resumed their careers after six months. Why can't I be one of them too?” Bokuto shouted back, changing his voice just like Akaashi had.

“Those people took risks and you will not go through this if it depends on me. A full recovery takes time and you can’t simply tell your body to hurry up,” Akaashi’s high pitched voice made the walls vibrate.

"If I have to choose between taking risks or regret not following my desires for the rest of my life then, I'd rather bet all my chips and at least try," Bokuto shook his head, tugging at his silver strands like he hadn't done in a long time.

“You don't understand how sad I feel every time I hear Kuroo talking about his time during practise with the whole team. I just want to be there with them one more time, ‘cause this is going to be my last. I want to make Fukurodani’s name one to be remembered by everyone and not humiliated. I want to go there and make a difference, I know I can if you let me do it!”

“Bokuto-san, this is not something debatable. I understand your feelings, but your well-being and your health comes first. Above all things, I’m your doctor,” Akaashi, who had always avoided conflicts at any cost, didn’t seem to be able to dodge the one he currently found himself in.

Bokuto's patience came to an end and the nerves in his skin’s surface throbbed incessantly. “Actually, my doctor’s name is Iwaizumi Hajime and it’s his opinion that matters to me since you’re too selfish to think about my happiness.”

Bokuto didn’t turn around to see the shock on Akaashi's face. He offered him his back and nothing more as he left the clinic to meet the icy breeze out in the streets.

The Nationals approached as a red marker tainted the calendar’s pages, bringing a wave of anxiety to everyone directly or indirectly involved. The participating teams were increasingly focused and determined during their practises in order to prepare themselves for all situations with the best performance possible. The tournament started with three qualifying rounds, in which the teams would be distributed randomly into four groups. Then, the quarter finals and semifinals would take place to reveal the last two teams to compete for the trophy.

Nervousness certainly played a role in disrupting many of the participants in their debut, yet, as expected, Fukurodani, Karasuno and Itachiyama made their way through the playoffs and saved their places in the quarterfinals. Karasuno was left behind in an exciting match against Kamomedai and a new rivalry was established between the two main actors of that concert, Hinata and Hoshiumi. Fukurodani faced the white-haired boy in the semifinals and, although it wasn't an easy match, Fukurodani’s strong serve and their unstoppable block allowed the team to win their place in the long-awaited final against Itachiyama.

Iwaizumi was surprised by Bokuto's sudden request for an appointment, though he accepted it regardless of his personal opinion. The same imaging exams had been carried out and Bokuto found himself again sitting inside the orthopedist's office next to Kuroo.

"As you can see here," Iwaizumi pointed to one of the exams. “Your knee already shows a good improvement and your muscles seem almost completely one with your joint again. In addition, the fact that you’re already walking without any signs of pain is a good thing.”

“It’s very good to hear that, Iwaizumi-san,” Kuroo smiled nervously, knowing why Bokuto wanted to be there so badly and anticipating for the moment he would bring up the subject.

“And how are your physiotherapy sessions, Bokuto-san? Sugawara told me you started practicing with a volleyball again. How are you feeling about that?” Iwaizumi waited for Bokuto’s answer while taking some notes.

"Great! In fact, speaking of volleyball...” Bokuto offered the doctor a chance to cut him out.

“First of all, congratulations on the matches, Kuroo. The finals are this weekend, right? Oikawa is overworking himself again,” Iwaizumi huffed and added. "I’ll be there watching you win."

"Thank you, Iwaizumi-san," Kuroo respectfully said. "Your presence and encouragement will make us very happy." Especially Oikawa, but Kuroo kept that part for himself.

"Since you mentioned the finals, Iwaizumi-san," Bokuto spoke ahead. "Please let me play during the match!" He bent as far as he could on the chair, his head briefly hitting the table before quickly straightening up again. “You said my exams are good and I hardly feel any pain anymore. Please, Iwaizumi-san, it's the last match and we really want to win,” Bokuto almost rose from his seat as his pleading request left his lips.

Iwaizumi's eyebrows turned down just as his mouth. “I suppose you already talked about this with Akaashi and he said no, that's why you scheduled an appointment with me afterall. To ask for my permission,” Iwaizumi correctly deduced with a sigh. “Bokuto-san, I’ll be very honest with you. As much as I’m your orthopedist, Akaashi is the one who’s watching you daily and his opinion is definitely more relevant than mine in this situation. So, unfortunately, if he said that you are not well enough to play this match, I feel much obliged to support him in this decision.”

There were times in Iwaizumi's life when he painfully needed to act with his brain instead of his heart. That was undoubtedly one of them.

"Okay," Bokuto said roughly, clearly annoyed and displeased by his doctor's response. "Thanks, Iwaizumi-san."

And Bokuto dealt with the situation the same way he dealt with his Akaashi a few weeks ago, getting up without batting an eyelid and heading toward the door.

"Sorry about that, Iwaizumi-san, Bokuto is just a bit upset," Kuroo's gaze shifted between the doctor and the door, not wanting to lose sight of Bokuto.

"Go," Iwaizumi nodded in Bokuto's direction. "Go after him and don't let him do anything stupid."

Contrary to what everyone believed in, Bokuto wasn’t at Tokyo’s gymnasium at five in the afternoon to watch the National’s final match. Outraged, Bokuto ignored all information and news about the match and locked himself inside his small apartment. He didn't let his melancholy carry him away like it used to happen in the past, no. This time, perhaps for the first time in his entire life, Bokuto found himself drowning in a completely different feeling; hatred. The one that possessed the minds of the most opportune and caused them unprecedented evil, responsible for causing discord and many of the misdeeds spread around the world.

Bokuto was infuriated by his current situation but he knew something had to be done in order to face his problems as he should. He decided on the most obvious solution. The one that would bring him the most satisfaction.

His eyes darted to the digital clock next to his television. 5:26 PM

There was still time to make a difference.

Bokuto hurried over his narrow hallway, running into his room and rummaging through his drawers and closet until he found his old jersey. It instantly found its place around Bokuto’s torso as his previous shirt had been forgotten somewhere on the floor. Wearing that jersey encouraged Bokuto even more, although the last memories he had with it weren’t very bright. He felt ready to make new ones.

And so, he ran.

At first, the injured knee acted like a rusty gear, stuck and stiff as he took the first steps. However, after a few tries, his joint seemed to work as expected, as if its figurative metallic parts had been bathed in the most viscous substance, coordinating his bone’s movements with excellence.

The path from Bokuto’s apartment to Tokyo’s gymnasium would take an average time of twenty minutes, but Bokuto arrived in ten, overwhelmed by the adrenaline running through his veins.

Upon entering the gymnasium, Bokuto closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel again, totally surrendered to the feelings that only the court was capable of providing him. The smell of the match - a mixture of sweat, tension and emotion, invaded his nostrils and instantly a smile appeared between his thin lips. Curious looks were directed at his figure, being to them nothing more than a fool standing at the entrance of the gymnasium. But the moment his eyes sparkled with a fickle golden color and his face completely lit up like the star he was meant to be, everyone knew that those eyes belonged to a champion.

"Kiyoko-san!" Bokuto shouted with all the air he had left. "Your ace is here!"

Whispers quickly filled the place when people saw the strange figure with platinum hair and eccentric knee pads walking towards the court after announcing his presence with way too much noise. One of the spectators in particular, soon took out his phone and opened a new conversation with someone he came to know recently, a thoughtful and balanced person; a great friend. And an even better physiotherapist.

Akaashi took a glance at his phone when a new notification popped up on the screen, illuminating the dimly lit room. He marked the page of the book in his hands to check the new message. It was from Iwaizumi, and the physiotherapist soon became suspicious of its contents. Both respected each other as professionals and never had many chances to talk about anything other than matters related to Bokuto since they had him as their patient in common.

 **[Iwaizumi Hajime]**  
 _I see that you changed your mind about letting Bokuto play. It's risky, but I trust your judgment.  
_ _At least the game will be much more interesting now._

Shocked, Akaashi faced those words as an enigma to be solved. He couldn't and didn’t want to believe in what he had just read. He knew that Bokuto was simply unpredictable and obtuse, but he certainly didn’t expect that.

And so, he ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on, I'm SO THIRSTY for your comments after this cliffhanger
> 
> [@starks-wings](https://starks-wings.tumblr.com/)


	7. The Match

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it! I've been so busy this week yet I couldn't help but updating the last official chapter of this story (specially after leaving you with THAT cliffhanger)
> 
> There's still another chapter after this one, kind of an epilogue (I say kind of since it has its importance for the plot) with an 100% optional smut scene at the end. It's really cute so I hope you read it
> 
> I can't thank everyone enough for their support! I love to interact with people through comments or messages and without them I don't really think I'd translate this whole thing. Special thanks to [@Iliura](https://iliura.tumblr.com/), again (because she's amazing)
> 
> This is my favorite chapter and I have a lot of feels about it. I hope you like it as much as I did
> 
> Songs:  
> [Yuri on Ice OST](https://open.spotify.com/track/6mhtjlYdbceFnMlRfkbsQu?si=rh9JeysERcSWJL5hqA5Qbg)  
> [Ten Feet Tall - Afrojack, Wrabel](https://open.spotify.com/track/6mhtjlYdbceFnMlRfkbsQu?si=nDiF05D-SQ-Drn_pwCOYUA)
> 
> Enjoy!

Both Fukurodani and Itachiyama interrupted their ongoing actions to devote their attention to the familiar platinum-haired figure approaching them.

Kiyoko asked for a time-out and crossed her arms in front of the ex-captain.

"What do you think you're doing here?" Her stern, reprimanding look did nothing to weaken Bokuto's stance.

"I came to play!" With both hands on his hips, Bokuto shouted impatiently as he started to warm up his muscles.

"Are you crazy? You can't play yet. Besides, you haven't been training with the team in months, You’ll be totally out of sync with them," Kiyoko protested, but she knew it would be useless. Nothing seemed to ruin Bokuto's idea of participating in that match.

"Kiyoko-san," despite the serious tone, Bokuto still had a silly smile plastered on his face. "I'm fine, really. I'm here to play the rest of the match and that's what we'll do to win."

"He can’t play," Itachiyama’s wing spiker, Sakusa, raised his rarely heard voice. "Players not enrolled in the tournament can’t play. Those are the rules."

Tension was spread among Fukurodani’s players as they felt the air getting suddenly heavier. Their expressions, once lively due to Bokuto’s return, withering like a rose in the face of a cold winter. Even Bokuto himself let his emotional shock show as he took a single step back.

"No way," he whispered, seeing his world collapse upon him for the second time in six months.

[However](https://open.spotify.com/track/6mhtjlYdbceFnMlRfkbsQu?si=RTiu9i-_S1W20YSl3uqBOA), Kiyoko didn’t seem surprised by the information from Itatchiyama’s wing spiker. She chuckled quietly with her lips tugged up. “Actually, Sakusa-san, I thought something like this could happen so I had Bokuto-san enrolled even aware of his condition,” her eyes went straight to Bokuto.

“There are a few things you need to learn about your teammates and colleagues, Sakusa-san,” if Kiyoko could shapeshift into any animal at that moment, it would be a scorpion. Its poison dripping down the tip of its stinger as from each one of her words. “Bokuto-san is unpredictable, uncontrollable and even sometimes irresponsible but I know he’s also very loyal and would never abandon his team. Even if he’s on the edge of a cliff, he would jump if it meant winning.”

The cries intensified inside the gymnasium, bouncing against the walls and echoing throughout its structure; whether by Fukurodan’s fans or their players.

But Bokuto could only hear the arrhythmic beating of his heart.

He nodded at his coach and walked slowly towards the benched players. Holding his weight on the balls of his feet, Bokuto crouched close to the floor. The amber of his eyes reflected his overflowing energy and vibrated in anticipation as his joined hands rested on his chin. All concentration wasn’t simply enough to the former captain.

"Just tell me what to do, coach," he whispered against his sweaty hands.

Oikawa approached him. “Don't be silly, Bo-chan. You know very well what you need to do, but first,” the sound of the velcro strips being gently separated went through Bokuto's ears, who remained static until he felt the weight of the armband now tightly placed on his left forearm. "There you go. You just need to tell us where to go, captain,” Oikawa emphasized the denomination with a clear and slow pronunciation.

For the setter, that action meant more than it seemed, much more than a friendly gesture. It was like stepping down from the position he had always dreamed of having; like taking off the pride he had been wearing through all his life. Deep down Oikawa knew that the title didn’t belong to him; being a captain required more than just words and commands, it was necessary to embrace the cause wholeheartedly and dedicate yourself at all times to never let the ball drop.

And nobody did that better than Bokuto.

“Alright!” The captain jumped up suddenly. "Let’s take this trophy home, Fukurodani."

Akaashi wasn’t sure how his legs carried him to Tokyo’s gymnasium, perhaps the adrenaline in his blood gave him enough energy to complete the long walk. His lungs burned beneath a thin dark green sweater, pleading for some air that had become thin. Discrete beads of sweat ran down the back of his neck and wet his short wavy strands of hair, messed up even more by the wind that hit them on the way. He bent forward and his hands sought leverage on his knees while Akaashi collected himself enough to face what was to come next.

In the background he was able to hear excited screams from the stands, the high-pitched sound of the rubber soles crashing against the court’s floor, rushed words of encouragement and the slaps of each spike. The scene unfolded through his half-closed eyes like a movie approaching its climax.

Until that familiar voice rang in his ears as if it was the only one in the room.

"Oikawa, toss that one to me!"

Akaashi suddenly forced the gymnasium’s doors to open and his eyes soon were fixed on the source of the whirlwind of feelings surrounding his mind.

Astonished, Akaashi had his attention stolen from him as well as all the air filling his lungs. His feet seemed to have left the ground the moment Bokuto hovered in front of the net with one arm extended behind him and the most beautiful grin he had ever seen illuminating every corner of his face. The captain's body moved majestically, as if wings emerged from his back and literally made him fly. His hands hit the volleyball squarely, guiding it to the other side of the court with a skill worthy of a professional. An impeccable and enviable cross spike, perfect in its technique and execution, as if Bokuto had been practising that play since he was just a boy.

"He's a star," Akaashi thought.

From his inert fleeting thought, Akaashi realized that Bokuto was also at that fateful moment the protagonist of his entire world.

The impact of the captain's feet against the ground forced Akaashi to flinch, worried about Bokuto’s pain and his injured knee. When he opened his eyes again, he noticed the captain's fluid movements and breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Akaashi!" A voice called out to him from the stands.

The physiotherapist caught a sight of Iwaizumi's arms moving through the crowd of spectators.

"Iwaizumi-san," Akaashi greeted him and sat down beside him, appreciating the saved spot.

"I knew you would come. Glad you’re here to see the show," Iwaizumi casually said.

"Show?" Akaashi asked, confused.

"Watch the match and you’ll see," Iwaizumi nodded at the court. “Since Bokuto joined them, Fukurodani turned into a completely different team with a whole new energy. They’re playing way better than they were when the match started.”

Akaashi huffed, not bothering to hide his happiness. "He has that effect on people," he smiled warmly at the captain who had just scored another point for his team.

If Fukurodani was an orchestra, Bokuto would be their expert maestro. His energy seemed more vivid than ever before, secretly reaching out to his teammates and infecting them with an intrinsic desire to win. A spirit capable of raising even those unable to walk or flourish an entire field just hit by the harsh Winter’s conditions. His words were like magic to the attentive ears of his teammates, who dedicated themselves to listen to them as if they were spoken by a celestial being.

Bokuto held the shiny golden crown and scepter in his hands, commanding the rest of his cohort not as a dictator, but as a democratic. He was the absolute king of the match.

However, his presence wasn’t enough to reach Itachiyama's advantage on the scoreboard and the set ended at 25-21 for the veterans.

"This is not going to be easy," murmured Iwaizumi, apparently as nervous as Akaashi.

"They'll make it," Akaashi mentioned hopefully. They needed to make it.

Iwaizumi laughed playfully. “Of course they will. Have you seen the amazing setter they have?” He praised the strong presence of his boyfriend on the court, who, like the rest of the team, was a crucial piece for their well-executed plays to run as smoothly as possible while keeping up with Bokuto’s energy.

The next set would determine the end or not of Fukurodani's dream for the gold medal. With two sets of advantage, Itachiyama needed only one more to close the three sets and guarantee the victory for the second consecutive time.

However, overcoming Fukurodani's exponential growth proved to be one of the most arduous tasks faced by Sakusa and his team. As experienced as they were, nothing seemed to surpass the determination burning on the owl’s eyes. Itatchiyama’s plays showed flaws never seen before, explored countless times by Fukurodani’s skillful players. Their block was also weak when compared to the human barrier imposed mainly by Kuroo, and their serves incomparable to Oikawa’s. Itatchiyama felt intimidated by the energy overflowing from Bokuto and his teammates.

Kiyoko's team returned from the ashes like a resurrecting phoenix and completely dominated the third set, offering no space for Itachiyama to impose their pace again.

Sweat ran down the bodies from both sides after exhausting rallys and plays tested to their maximum potential. Even the most physically prepared ones showed slight signs of tiredness, feeling their legs slightly shaky and their arms burning with a clear redness given the tension and implicit importance of that match to their own future and to the school as a whole.

“Keep it up, guys! We can’t give up now, I know you can do it,” Kiyoko reinforced positivity, keeping her team's hopes and spirits at their highest levels.

"How are you, Bokuto-san?" She asked the captain now sitting on the cherry wood bench and unconsciously massaging his injured knee.

"Great! I can keep playing, Kiyoko-san,” he grinned, closing his eyes only when he felt the impact of a heavy hand against the back of his neck.

"Idiot," Kuroo looked at him with an unfriendly expression. “If you’re in pain you better say something. Don't count on me to carry you around like the last time.”

Beside him, Oikawa gasped jokingly. "Tetsu-chan, we all know that you’re Bo-chan’s dear nanny," he rested a hand on Bokuto's shoulder. "I bet if he fell to the floor now and expressed a minimum of pain you would be the first to pick him up and carry him to the nearest hospital."

Bokuto tilted his head towards Kuroo with a silly smile drawn on his lips. "You love me too much, Bro."

Kuroo turned to the side, slightly embarrassed. “Maybe, but that doesn't mean you can go around and do stupid things. Understood?"

Bokuto paid a playful salute to Kuroo's words. "Yes, sir!"

Yaku approached one of the giants around him, throwing Bokuto a bottle of water. “Good to have you back, captain. Now, shall we add another set to our score?”

A fearless cry left the throat of Fukurodani’s players, once again inspired by the presence of the figure with platinum hair rising and guiding them back to the court with a majesty that only a true captain was capable of maintaining.

The fourth set started with a sudden and unexpected advance from Itachiyama, who again had the chance to end the game and defeat their opponents. Sakusa’s plays made it clear why he was the one blessed with the title of the best scholar ace in Japan. His spikes were coldly planned and perfectly executed with the right amount of strength, neither in excess nor lack. A flick of his impossibly flexible wrists and the ball was once again touching Fukurodani’s side. Still, what was most fascinating wasn’t his technique, but his ability to read the situation after every small move; a born strategist. In his mind, a range of possibilities opened up with each movement of the opposing team, alerting his own teammates to the moves that would follow.

Oikawa was certainly the one most affected by his opponent's assumptions, depreciating himself every time Sakusa's mind acutely proved to be superior.

“Shit,” cursed the setter when he saw the ball being easily blocked by a couple of middle-blockers. He allowed his eyes to rest for a couple of seconds and breathed deeply in order to calm his fluttering nerves.

"Hey, Oikawa," he heard his captain's voice waking him from his moment of slumber. "I have an idea to get them, hear me out," Oikawa raised his eyebrows in curiosity; rare were the times when Bokuto was the one making calls for an alternative play.

The captain whispered in his ear and Oikawa's first thought was to say no, but he pressed his lips together and looked at Bokuto suspiciously. "You really think this can work?"

"Trust me! If we manage to score at least the two points left to tie the match, I know we can win this set,” Bokuto expressed confidence through every pore of his clear sweaty skin.

Oikawa nodded. "I trust you, Bokuto."

The plan was simpler than it seemed. Since Oikawa was failing to distract Itachiyama and trick them with his midirections, he would be the one responsible for scoring the points into the opponent's court. The ball would be received by Yaku as usual and the ball would be sent to Oikawa's skillful hands, however, the setter would jump to receive it and guide it to the other side of the net with all his dexterity instead of completing a pass; a classic dump.

Oikawa acted as the perpetrator of a perfect crime. And Itachiyama followed as expected.

Being another one of his hopeless victims.

The crowd roared fiercely as Fukurodani scored the point, tormenting the rigid structures of Tokyo’s gymnasium.

"I bet you must be proud of him," Iwaizumi mentioned after sitting down again, being completely overwhelmed by the impressive and exciting match.

"I could say the same about you, Iwaizumi-san," Akaashi replied, but didn’t deny the orthopedist's statement.

"Yeah," Iwaizumi watched Fukurodani’s players hugging Oikawa and jumping on him, unable to hide the smile between his lips. "I'm so fucking proud."

"He’ll be big one day," said Akaashi.

“He already is, but yeah. I think everyone will be, including Bokuto,” Iwaizumi pointed at the court, where Bokuto had just tied the match after an incredible feint.

Akaashi sighed, feeling a slight shiver to run through his arms as he admired Bokuto’s figure on the court. "I bet he’ll become an entire constellation," he whispered to himself, his words inaudible to Iwaizumi’s ears despite their close proximity.

Fukurodani won the fourth set thanks to the improvised plays between Oikawa and Bokuto, mainly.

The exhaustion was overwhelming and excruciating, making its way inside the player’s muscles in their legs and arms and filling them with nothing but lactic acid. As they were used to three sets matches, the fourth one hit both teams like a cannon shot at a ship slowly sinking overseas. Fatigue, not only physical but also mental, spread through the air and became clear as loud puffs of air could be heard as they were released, followed by grunts of pain when their muscles suddenly tightened in unexpected cramps. Despite the warm ups, the final was different from all other experiences already lived by the participants; a game not always suited for high school students, but ideal for a professional player.

Bokuto groaned when Kuroo’s hands started to massage his leg, feeling how each move managed to reach his recovering knee.

"You should stay out of this one, Bro," Kuroo suggested.

“And miss the end of the match? No way,” Bokuto tilted his face towards the ceiling. "Only fifteen points, I can do it."

"Bokuto..." Kuroo rested his fingers on his scarred knee. "Look, I know you’re in pain and you know this can be bad for you later on," he warned him.

“I know that, but Kuroo I need to at least try. I need to push myself until I reach my limit and prove that I can do this,” his voice, while transmitting confidence, trembled.

"You’re already at your limit, Bokuto," Kuroo sighed. “I hate to see you do this to yourself. I don't want to see you getting hurt again.”

"Kuroo," Bokuto called him, this time smiling. "I'll be fine, just let me go back there and show you what I can do."

“Even if it costs you your career? You might never play again if something more serious happens, don't you remember? You can't throw it all away and forget what happened. What will people think? What will Akaashi think when he sees you all broken like that again?”

Bokuto's lips curved down in sadness, his eyes no longer meeting Kuroo’s stern gaze. "I don't want to talk about Akaashi."

"You love him, don't you?" Kuroo found himself stuck in a deafening silence as Bokuto seemed to be fighting a costly battle against his own emotions.

All the moments Bokuto and Akaashi shared were illustrated inside Bokuto's head in ephemeral flashes, from the unforgettable moment when they met inside Sugawara’s clinic to the most intimate ones back at Bokuto's place. Akaashi was there during all situations in which Bokuto most needed some kind of human support, a caress or just emotional comfort. The physiotherapist, over time, had become entrenched in Bokuto’s deepest parts, simply being in his life and playing a safe haven role, to which Bokuto could always turn when needed. Akaashi's influence on Bokuto’s mood was undeniable; a single day without seeing him and Bokuto returned to the darkness awaiting him with open arms. And at every opportunity to be with him, Bokuto’s chest was filled with the most unexpected euphoria, to the point of internally pleading for a simple touch of those harmonious hands.

Bokuto didn’t know what to think about the immensity of different sensations that affected him whenever Akaashi was at his side.

Until that moment.

"Yeah," Bokuto confessed in a breathless gasp. "I love him so much, Kuroo," a weight seemed to leave his shoulders upon the revelation. "What should I do? Do you think he...” he left the rest of his sentence implied, afraid to vocalize his insecure thoughts.

Kuroo laughed in response, slapping one of the captain's arms. "Took you long to figure it out, Bro," he sneered. “Don't worry, I'm sure he feels the same way. You should tell him when this is over.”

"As If he'll talk to me after he finds out I'm playing and getting my knee wrecked again," said Bokuto.

"He will, don't worry," Kuroo assured him. "Now get up, you've rested what you needed."

Bokuto let his jaw be pulled to the ground by gravity. “You did that on purpose to distract me from the match and make me relax! How dare you, Bro!?” He punched Kuroo’s sides several times.

"What can I say? You know me so well,” Kuroo dodged Bokuto’s attempts to hit him and pretended to be emotionally distressed by his punches only to show his usual mischievous grin right after.

The fifth and final set would define the Nationals winner. Fifteen minimum points separated one of the teams on court from the glorious trophy and the even more desired champion title. The set could be extended to any number above, provided that the two points difference between them was respected, which brought further worries to both coaches. An endurance capable of separating the strong from the weak, the resilient from the decaying, the professionals from the amateurs. Their skills would be put to the test so as their stability, which would last until there’s a rupture on one of the sides. Victory wouldn’t be given to the team owner of the best technique, but to the one capable of taking advantage of the other's failures and then, standing out.

Nerves were on edge, shown by the looks immersed in a sea of concentration. External noises no longer mattered, nor did they cross the imaginary barrier surrounding the court and the players there representing their schools. An exclusive world had been created, in which there were only twelve figures, six on each side of the net, and a single volleyball.

Their goal was the only shared characteristic.

To win.

Fukurodani started the set with a different rotation, in which Oikawa would be serving to pressure the opposing team with all his strength and excellence.

Although the setter's palms revealed his pain and fatigue upon the redness slowly taking over them, the serve was beautifully performed and hit the other side like a bomb exploding near the white bottom line and giving Itachiyama no chance to receive.

An ace.

"Nice one, Oikawa!" Praised Bokuto.

The next serve came in with as much grandeur and strength as the first, however, Itachiyama quickly learned how to deal with them and then scored the second point of the set with an excellent play performed by none other than Sakusa Kiyoomi, the ace.

The dispute continued fiercely. On one side, a team experienced in decisions of high importance with skillful players recognized by the public. On the other, a team determined to win at any cost, showing courage and technique in each of its movements. Sometimes Itachiyama took the lead on the scoreboard, sometimes Fukurodani’s spikes beat the block and scored one point ahead of their opponents. On the court, both teams played as equals, exhibiting both their flaws and virtues and creating a match of a level yet nonexistent.

From the tenth point on, adrenaline slowly left Bokuto's body, offering its place for the timely and latent pain to show up. His knee ached from the anguishing sensations that traveled from the tip of his toes to the top of his head; an omnipresence pain that could no longer be ignored. His face broke like a Japanese porcelain mask, writhing as he tried to understand the match and not the agony he slowly drowned himself on.

Over the stands, Akaashi's chest tightened with each of Bokuto’s painful expressions. The captain's torment became his, as if there was an invisible link between their emotions. With each small stumble, each wrecked moan, Akaashi felt more compelled to simply break through those invisible barriers and give Bokuto the fortitude he currently missed.

When Bokuto's feet returned to the ground after scoring a point and his legs were unable to support his weight, Akaashi got up and ran down the stairs to get as close to the court as he could without interrupting the match.

"Bokuto!" He cried out, not noticing the tears that dared to wet his face.

Then, golden crashed into Akaashi’s steel-blue eyes once again.

Bokuto's surroundings became cloudy and there was nothing but Akaashi’s figure behind a thin protective net. He was there. He'd been watching him the whole time.

"Please don't give up now," Akaashi pleaded. “I know about your pain and your frustrations but you've come so far, Bokuto-san,” he said proudly. “You always remind me in each of our sessions of how amazing I am, but I think now it's my turn to say it.”

Akaashi took a deep breath and struggled past his sadness to show Bokuto his most sincere smile. "You are incredible, Koutarou."

"Show them how great you are and win this match," Akaashi added.

Bokuto stood up, supported by Kuroo's arms. "Akaashi," he murmured, still dumbfounded.

“Keep watching me, Akaashi! I’ll win this match for my team and I’ll win it for you too!” He grinned and pointed at Akaashi, entirely refreshed to learn that, once again, Akaashi was right there when he needed him most.

The moment Bokuto's hand hit the ball with whatever was left of his vigor and sent it flying towards the other side of the court for Fukurodani’s fifteenth point, the crowd went crazy. Black, yellow and white confetti and balloons colored the insides of the gymnasium along with a cacophony of deafening sounds.

15-13.

Just like that the last set of the National’s final came to an end and Fukurodani was crowned as the champions.

Tears of happiness from one side and sadness from the other ran down the faces of the brave players. A moment of consolation for Itachiyama, no less deserving considering their path and history as a strong competitor in the courts. It was a moment of celebration for Fukurodani’s members, who, thanks to their perseverance and commitment, won the gold medal; an award to be remembered by all current and future students.

Bokuto threw himself to the floor as soon as the referee announced the end of the match. The weight of his teammates on his torso gradually increased, along with his own uncontrolled weeping mixed with what was supposed to be giggles and discredited laughs.

"We did it, Bro!"

"Bo-chan, we won!"

"Bokuto, you were awesome!"

Each sentence of Bokuto’s colleagues left an additional crack on his scrupulous emotional state, forcing him to slowly reveal his implicit emotions. Those which Bokuto never allowed to appear.

He hugged everyone around him as he could until he felt his body being lifted by different arms as they offered him support when his leg could no longer. Limping, Bokuto made sure to greet each one of them privately, praising their qualities and thanking them for all their help during the match and all those years together as an exemplary captain would.

Together, Fukurodani greeted Itachiyama and bowed to the owls now screaming their names from the stands in recognition of their presence and energy.

"I hope we’ll meet again, Bokuto-san," Sakusa offered him a short nod before turning his back on him and joining the rest of his team to receive their silver medal.

Kiyoko had been the last to approach the flattered, platinum-haired player.

“I’m very proud of you, Bokuto-san. But never do that again, you hear me!? No matter which team you end up playing for, you can’t keep acting like this! You have to be more careful from now on,” she scolded her player, trying her best to avoid crying as her voice trembled. "We were worried."

"I'll be fine this time, Kiyoko-san!" The captain assured her.

The award ceremony took place peacefully and with great significance for the team dressed in white, black and gold. The golden medals on each person's chest carried an immeasurable weight, especially for the third year’s students, whose feeling could be easily described as that of a mission accomplished. At the end, Fukurodani’s smiling faces crowded around the glittering trophy showed everyone their immeasurable pride and satisfaction.

They felt like kings of the world.

["Akaashi,"](https://open.spotify.com/track/2ldAdghnrO34HPcZ0IWfTu?si=xpD98ELsTO2AqM3qzXXgzg) Iwaizumi called out to the physiotherapist absorbed in Fukurodani’s celebration. "Do you want to go there and congratulate them?"

"Please, Iwaizumi-san," Akaashi followed him through a small gate that separated the court from the stands. Normally people wouldn’t be allowed to do so, but they knew about Iwaizumi and the relationship he had with Oikawa.

Akaashi could barely contain his thundering heartbeats as each step decreased the distance between him and Bokuto. His eyes constantly searched for him in between the students and journalists that now took part of the court, but was unsuccessful. With a sigh, Akaashi shrugged and was saddened by the thoughts that maybe Bokuto was no longer among so many people considering his physical condition, which could be understood as moderate to severe.

"Hajime, over here!" Oikawa waved his arms, opening them to welcome Iwaizumi when he started running and hugging him as tightly as possible. Oikawa’s tears were inevitable, yet Iwaizumi made sure to dry them all and tell him how great he was during the match and how ugly his face was when he sobbed like a child.

Akaashi was momentarily distracted by the subtle caresses exchanged between Oikawa and Iwaizumi and barely noticed the uncoordinated stumbles of the one whose arms he longed to be in.

"Akaashi!" Bokuto fell completely off balance as soon as he crashed into the physiotherapist, knocking both of them back on the floor. Akaashi absorbed the shock from the fall and wheezed when Bokuto’s weight pressed down on his slim body.

“Akaashi, are you okay? I'm so sorry, I think I tripped,” Bokuto searched for signs of pain on Akaashi’s face, hardly paying attention to their compromising position.

Akaashi's hands, instead of going still, dared to slide across Bokuto's face. The first touch was rather timid, the partly rough and rather sweaty surface of Bokuto’s close shave scratched the back of Akaashi’s hands as he got used to the feeling of Bokuto’s skin underneath his fingertips. The next one became bolder as Akaashi held Bokuto’s jaw in between his trembling hands and caressed his red colored cheeks with his thumbs. His fingers ran through every detail of Bokuto’s face, from the countless strands of his voluminous lashes to the short black hair on his supposed sideburn. They moved gently down his face until they touched the corner of his pink and slightly voluminous lips.

Both shivered at the faint touch, a silent answer to the chills spreading through his arms and running up to the base of his spine.

"Bokuto-san," Akaashi brought Bokuto's face close to his, breaking the mesmerizing spell cast between blue and gold in order to stare at the short path of his fingers through Bokuto’s chapped mouth.

The distance was now so small that Akaashi felt their nose tips gently touch. Akaashi felt the remnants of Bokuto's heavy breathing on his chin and lower lips, his subtly minty breath caressing the inside of Akaashi’s nostrils.

And thanks to a sudden impulse from Bokuto, those few millimeters separating them no longer existed.

Akaashi raised his eyebrows in surprise at Bokuto's initiative, but it wasn't long before he closed his eyes and allowed himself to be seized by everything that could refer to Bokuto's figure; his presence, touch, smell and taste. Their lips were pressed at first with a certain urgency, thirsty to know and simply feel the texture of the other’s mouth against their own. Akaashi’s fingers slipped on Bokuto’s nape and followed upwards to intertwine themselves in his short hair as an attempt to have more and more of that intoxicating contact. His teeth touched Bokuto's lower lip, who responded with a quiet moan and a silent plea to go further.

Both leaned in opposite directions for the kiss to deepen. A single touch inside their mouths left their bodies and souls throbbing, indulging in the most unusual and pleasurable sensations provided by such a passionate yet simple gesture. Akaashi kissed Bokuto as if he never wanted to let him go again, holding Bokuto tightly against him by his disheveled hair and damped jersey, eagerly mapping the inside of his mouth and recording deep inside his memory the taste which he had just become addicted to. Bokuto was intoxicating in every imaginable way.

And Akaashi granted permission to poison himself.

Reluctantly, their lips finally parted in search of air as their lungs burned from the lack of it. Slowly, their eyes opened and, as in a mirror, smiles could be seen reflected on their ecstatic figures.

With his mouth, Bokuto traced the silent paths traced by a limited number of tears running down Akaashi's cheeks.

"Please don't cry, Akaashi," Bokuto whispered next to Akaashi's ear.

“You made me worry about you again, Bokuto-san. It’s impossible for me not to worry about you,” Akaashi said as he hugged Bokuto’s neck and tucked him under his chin.

"I can't actually promise that I won't do this anymore," Bokuto noticed Akaashi's heartbeats diminishing their frequency.

"I'm glad I'm learning how to deal with these situations then."

"Ohoho, if it's not my two precious owls," Bokuto lifted his head just to see Kuroo's provocative grin.

Kuroo extended a hand. "Need help to get up?"

After Akaashi and Bokuto were at their feet, Kuroo nodded at the locker room. "We need to get our stuff and then go to your place to celebrate, Bo."

"You’re coming with us too, aren't you, Akaashi?" Bokuto asked hopefully as he leaned on Kuroo’s shoulders.

“Of course I will, Bokuto-san. I’ll wait for you outside so we can go together, how does that sound?” He suggested.

"Perfect! I promise I won’t take too long. You won't even miss me, Akaashi!” His voice grew more and more distant as Kuroo kept pushing him away and to where they were supposed to be.

"As if I don’t miss you already," Akaashi whispered to himself.

The sky was already dark when Bokuto left Tokyo’s gymnasium with a pair of crutches - thanks to Iwaizumi and Akaashi’s persistence. His hair was down and damp from the shower he took and the glorious golden medal still sparkled proudly as light hit its surface around his neck. He tried to shorten his interviews as he could, wanting nothing more than to go back to Akaashi, yet they still held him back for an hour or so. As Bokuto stepped outside, the chilly wind blew through his body without any shame, but Bokuto was warmed up by the thoughts of Akaashi and the passionate kiss they shared after the match.

Akaashi looked at the moon and the stars far in the distance as if they were objects of his newest fixation, dazzled by the magnitude of their galaxy and thinking of how small and far they were from them. There were no clouds hindering the brightness of the stars, which was almost a miracle considering the large city they lived in. They stood so close and so far away at the same time, Akaashi almost wished he could stretch his arms at them and catch one of the stars to make them shine forever just to his own pleasure.

Bokuto stopped as soon as he saw how the moonlight seemed to reflect on Akaashi’s slightly tanned skin, illuminating him like an angel sent straight from heaven.

Bokuto couldn’t possibly say how, but Akaashi had never looked so beautiful.

"Hey, Akaashi," Bokuto came over and searched for Akaashi’s hands while looking fondly at him.

"Yes, Bokuto-san?"

"The moon is really beautiful tonight, isn't it?" The words came out as naturally as possible. His message was clearly implicit and reserved only for the one he admired so attentively.

A mixture of embarrassment and awe took over Akaashi’s face, who could feel every square inch of his body warming up to Bokuto’s sincere words. Akaashi noticed the affection with which Bokuto looked at him and caressed his hand at that moment and then, he understood.

The love running through Bokuto's veins was as great as his own.

"The moon has always been and will always be the most beautiful."

The effect might not be the same; not according to Akaashi’s choice of words or to how they were pronounced. However, Akaashi knew that Bokuto had no doubts about their meaning when a smile of incomparable warmth blossomed across his face. A smile so bright that could make the moon envious of its light.

A smile that was only his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I think I need to explain something about the ending there. I recently found out (sorry if I'm wrong, japanese speakers) that 「月が綺麗ですね」 (Tsuki ga kirei desu ne), literally translated to “The moon is pretty tonight, isn't it?" it's a famous sentance for meaning "I love you" in japanese. We hear it a lot in shoujo animes and I think Bokuto would treat Akaashi with that delicacy if he ever had the chance like it was already shown by several parts of the original manga scans where he speaks to Akaashi very sweetly and different from the rest of the people
> 
> Also, sorry if Sakusa sounded a bit like a jerk, I actually love his character and that was not my intention at all, haha
> 
> Fun Fact: The original title of this chapter was (translated) "The departure" since in portuguese we use the same word for match and departure, which is "partida". That way I played a bit with the first chapter's title. Sadly, I couldn't pull that with English
> 
> That's it for this week  
> Read the epilogue to know about Bo's condition after the match! (And for more Sakusa, MSBY and Oikawa being a dork)  
> I hope you've enjoyed the story so far and in some way, the ending of it (that's how Nationals should have happened)
> 
> Find me at [@starks-wings](https://starks-wings.tumblr.com/)


	8. Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it
> 
> Here's the epilogue you were all waiting for
> 
> Thank you so much for everyone who read this until the end and I hope you enjoyed every special moment just like I did while writing it. Although I'm not a native english speaker, it was very fun to translate this work. I might do that more often with future works. I don't have a lot of ideas right now, but I might show up with a Disney fairytale Bokuaka soon
> 
> The smut scene is 100% optional and if that's not your kind of thing, just skip it to this sentence: "Exhausted, Bokuto let his body..."
> 
> Now you can finally listen to the song that gave birth to this story's title (The Cure)  
> [Johnny Rollins - High](https://open.spotify.com/track/0Bj5vkZRTogHEpT5tSsPVk?si=yO0UZ4-fRHOg6Zrq5I1e_Q)  
> [Lady Gaga - The Cure](https://open.spotify.com/track/34oB5r0lcN3fYWCs2uA1k5?si=NRgrVBZmS3C51qXli4tqjg)
> 
> Enjoy!

“[Here](https://open.spotify.com/track/0Bj5vkZRTogHEpT5tSsPVk?si=htl0JbxpQMGw7_AxaXMZpQ)! Toss to me!” Bokuto waved his arms to catch his setter's attention.

The skillful hands, although not used to the volleyball’s insignificant weight sliding over them, still recalled its velvety texture and its shape between slender fingers. The toss, however, at the critical eyes of a professional, didn’t go very well as it was too high and far away from the net.

Even with the difficulties, a few steps back were enough for Bokuto to nail the ball on the other side of the court.

"One more!"

After a few attempts, the tosses were shaped to Bokuto’s tastes, the peak of the ball’s course meeting Bokuto's palm within mere seconds. His reflexes were quick and his strategic thinking phenomenal, as if volleyball had never been absent from his routine and all his previous knowledge and skills were still fresh in his memory. He had a natural talent for the sport, undeniably. His body and mind attentively followed each movement and implicit intention of the one who, for the briefest moments, established himself as his wing spiker; his partner.

“That was incredible, Akaashi! You give me the best tosses!” Bokuto hurried to lift the setter by the waist, swirling him in the comfort of his arms before placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

On the other side of the net, Oikawa snorted. "He says that to all his setters, don't feel so special."

Bokuto stuck his tongue out at Oikawa. “He's different! His tosses aren’t as rigorous as yours.”

"He’s your boyfriend. It’s obvious he won’t be too hard on you, Bo-chan,” Oikawa said, pleased with the blush spreading through the pair still holding each other tightly.

 _Boyfriend_.

How long had they both waited for this moment; the one in which the denominations would fall on their names and wore by their hands as custom crafted gloves. After the National’s final, the bond between Akaashi and Bokuto had only strengthened. The time they dedicated to each other increased proportionately, so they could no longer point out which one of their places truly felt like home, nor how their clothes and belongings were now part of their decoration. The feeling they had for each other became even clearer to everyone around them, expressed by Akaashi’s small touches and Bokuto’s loud declarations of love. Thus, it wasn’t long before this natural approach between the physiotherapist and the player resulted in the beginning of their relationship.

_"Hey, Akaashi," Bokuto, who had his head on Akaashi’s thighs, turned to face him._

_"Yes, Bokuto-san?" In Akaashi’s hands was a recent medical scientific article which Sugawara had given to him in order to teach him about some current trends in the physiotherapy area. Akaashi’s attention, however, kept changing back and forth from his studies and the restless figure on his lap. Bokuto was completely unable to focus on a single television program and Akaashi suffered the consequences of his attention lapses._

_"I've been thinking lately and I was also talking to Kuroo about a few things," Akaashi sighed and lowered his gaze to find vague golden sparkles staring at the ceiling. His fair share of experience with Bokuto told him that something important was coming._

_"And?" Akaashi asked._

_“Well, I know I’m no longer your patient and we spend a lot of time together. I mean, I also know that you’re much more than just a friend to me. But what I really wanted to ask you is if we are more than that. If we're dating,” Bokuto felt his face light up in flames at the innocent questioning, refusing to face the immensity of that silver-blue ocean watching him from above._

_"Aren't we already?" Akaashi seemed confused for a moment, raising an eyebrow to represent his conflicting feelings._

_"We are?" Bokuto sounded hopeful but also puzzled._

_Akaashi smiled sweetly and raised a hand to Bokuto's spiky hair. Even with large amounts of gel, his platinum strands were surprisingly soft to the touch._

_"I do say that I love you almost every day when you ask me," He said playfully, carefully watching Bokuto’s embarrassment show on his cheeks._

_“Akaashi! You’re doing this on purpose!” Bokuto crossed his arms obstinately._

_He was surprised to feel Akaashi's lips on his cheek and hear his voice so close to his ears._

_“Don't be silly, Bokuto-san. Of course we’re dating,” Akaashi kissed his neck, feeling Bokuto's body shudder from the touch of his mouth._

_"And?" Bokuto teased back._

_"And you’re amazing and I love you very much," Akaashi rolled his eyes and straightened up on the burgundy sofa, trying to resume his long forgotten studies._

_Bokuto pressed his palm on the cushions and leaned forward with a crooked grin on his face. His eyes, now golden and in harmony with the warm sunlight coming through the blinds, stared closely at the silver-blue ocean in front of him. A hint of fondness hidden in his shining irises._

_"You’re amazing too, Akaashi," Bokuto took advantage of their position to partially hold Akaashi’s face with his free hand, gently stroking his hair. "But I'm sure I love you more," Bokuto whispered against Akaashi's lips before giving him a slow but chaste kiss._

_"I refuse to start an argument this stupid with you, Bokuto-san."_

_Instead of protesting, Bokuto had been reduced to laughter, leaning on Akaashi’s shoulder and there resting his head._

_"You really are the best, Akaashi."_

"Besides, Bokuto-chan," added Oikawa. "He won’t push you too hard since he’s afraid you’ll overwork and end up giving yourself another injury.”

Bokuto’s boldness during his last match for Fukurodani resulted in another month to his recovery but there were no further lesions to Akaashi and Iwaizumi’s relief. Since then, four months had flown by before Bokuto was finally allowed to return to his routine and to the courts. However, the weight of his degree and the number four jersey hanging inside his closet revealed his uncertain fate; without a college to go to or a team to play for. The proposals certainly came, especially after his impeccable performance at the Nationals, but none of them interested Fukurodani’s former captain, being either too far away or from teams with little to none renown. Bokuto was aware of his potential, his skills were great and worthy of the champions. He wanted to belong to such victories and not to those fighting for their place among the first league like wolves desperately fighting over a last, juicy piece of meat.

Throughout his life, Bokuto had always longed for more. More of himself, more of his team, more of his destiny.

"No way! You know I'm strong, don't you, Akaashi? You don't need to worry about me,” Bokuto puffed his chest and rested both hands on his waist, showing Akaashi his best heroic pose to prove him just how strong he was.

"Of course, Bokuto-san," Akaashi practically threw daggers at Oikawa with the subtlety of his gaze after being so carefully analyzed.

"Oikawa, shouldn't you be training with your new teammates?" Bokuto asked.

Fukurodani’s former setter deservedly earned a starting position in Tokyo FC, one of Japan's top and most famous teams, currently shining on the Premium League. That didn’t surprise his teammates given Oikawar's level of expertise and they soon threw him a party to celebrate his admirable achievement.

"Today’s my day off, Bokuto-chan," Oikawa mentioned as he spun a volleyball on his index finger. "That's why I invited you to come here."

"You really wanted to play with me that badly that you didn’t even consider calling Iwaizumi?" Bokuto felt close to tears.

Oikawa stopped Bokuto’s almost breakdown and shattered his growing hopes. “Don't be silly, of course I called Iwa-chan before you. Unfortunately, he’s busy, but we’re going out for a lovely dinner tonight and who knows, maybe the night will end with me laying in our bed and Iwa-chan between my legs,” Oikawa said without any modesty.

Both Bokuto and Akaashi felt their faces heating up, which caught the attention of Oikawa’s curious eyes.

“Why, you don't have to be so shy! It's probably nothing that two haven’t been practising already,” Oikawa teased with an absolutely wicked grin. “Or maybe you’re both waiting for that special moment. That’s so cute,” he quipped.

“Aka-chan, you shouldn't waste any more time, you have no idea what you're missing,” Oikawa’s eyes deliberately roamed Bokuto's body. “If I wasn’t dating Iwa-chan I’d totally go for that.”

"You!" Bokuto pointed at the one to blame for his embarrassment. "Stop that, Oikawa!" He stammered to defend his supposed innocence.

"Oikawa-san, personal lives are named like that for a reason so please stay away from ours," Akaashi heartily asked somewhat as a warning.

The setter waved his hands. "I'm so sorry, Aka-chan. It wasn't my intention," he lied but was satisfied with the commotion caused by his words.

Bokuto marched to Oikawa with his fists glued to his side, ready to tell him a few things about taking care of your own business when his attention was brought back to Akaashi, who was now resting on the bench.

"Bokuto-san, your phone’s ringing,"

"We heven't finished this yet!" Bokuto shouted as he crossed the court and answered the call thereafter.

Sitting right next to Bokuto, Akaashi couldn’t help but listen to parts of his conversation. He was still unable to say what exactly was it about, though he believed it involved a professional proposal. The only pieces of information available were those given loud and clear by Bokuto.

“Are you kidding? Of course I know them! They’re one of the best teams in Japan,”

“Me? Yes, I’m fully recovered, mr. Foster. In fact, my physiotherapist is right here if you want to talk to him, ”

“No, don't worry. I learned my lesson. This time I'm serious. I'm ready to play anytime,”

“Really? That’d be awesome! I’d love to participate,”

“Okay, agreed. Thank you very much for the opportunity, mr. Foster!”

When he ended the call, Bokuto turned to his personal safe haven and wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. "Akaashi, I made it!" his voice was barely able to contain the great amount of emotions overflowing from each syllable spoken. “It was the Black Jackals’ coach on the phone. He invited me to a tryout for a position as their wing spiker. They’re rebuilding the team with some young highlights from highschool.”

“Congratulations, Bokuto-san. I'm sure you’ll be chosen and play like never before,” Akaashi whispered only to his ears. "You’re incredible and you deserve this."

“Thank you, Akaashi. Thanks for that and thanks for everything, without you I wouldn’t have made it this far.”

Bokuto felt a distinct presence next to him and turned to face his former teammate.

"I couldn't help but hear it since you always speak so loudly," Oikawa shrugged. “But I guess the Black Jackals’ guys will be the ones to hear you now, huh? Congratulations, Koutarou. I’m sure you have what it takes to win that position,” Bokuto's smile crinkled the corners of his shining eyes.

Oikawa got hold of his own phone and checked the time and Iwaizumi's unread messages. "I have to go now," he announced and gathered his belongings before facing the ex-captain with a serious face. “The next time we see each other, I want it to be on opposite sides of the court. And I want you to do your best, Bokuto. ”

“That’s not something you need to tell me, Oikawa. I will prove to you that I’m the best player you’ve ever seen,” Bokuto said, entirely confident of the message lingering from his words.

"Great! I want to see you fly, captain,”

And so, Oikawa waved them goodbye.

The next day, Bokuto packed his clothes, stuffed them into his black duffle bag and took the first train to Osaka, more specifically Hirakata, where the Black Jackals were originally from and where the tryouts would take place. An extensive trip of almost four long hours, of which Bokuto spent half exchanging messages with Akaashi and Kuroo, and the other half thinking about the unbelievable proposal offered to him. Bokuto always dreamed of being big, the best, a champion. Now, thanks to a simple offer, he started to believe that he could not only achieve his dream, but also go further than he had ever hoped for.

The city to the northeast of Osaka greeted Bokuto with a sunny morning, graced by the sweet scent of spring. The cherry trees scattered their petals on the streets and sidewalks, coloring them with their pink tone and offering a hint of life to the peaceful urban setting. The landscape filled Bokuto's mind with warm thoughts about Akaashi, who dedicated part of his free time to gardening. Bokuto couldn't help but remember, in addition, that the current season was Akaashi's favorite and the same during which they met.

Black Jackals’ entire tryout lasted about three days. The first one was dedicated to physical aptitudes, the second to teamwork and, finally, the last to the synergy of each player with the rest of the starter team. Although simple, the tasks required reasoning and willingness from those inclined to face the phases in their entirety.

In total, five players had been called up. And Bokuto was surprised to recognize one of the faces there.

"Sakusa!" Bokuto casually made his way to him when their eyes crossed. “I can't believe they called you, too. I thought only third-year students would have a chance.”

Sakusa shrugged, trying to keep his distance from Bokuto’s energy. "I was told that I'm an exception to those circumstances,"

After a long silence, the second year student spoke again. "I knew we would meet again, Bokuto." Sakusa’s eyes showed findings of emotions, though his lips were slightly tugged up behind his black surgical mask.

If Bokuto said that he had not experienced any difficulties during the past three days, he would be definitely lying.

Adapting to new conditions was not a familiar thing to Bokuto, who had in contrast the routine established as his best friend. The constant was favorable to him and allowed Bokuto to grow and stand out within his small universe. However, when he forced himself to enter subsequent and repeated changes, Bokuto felt lost, unable to keep both feet on the ground.

The recent integration has placed itself as a barrier to be endured by Bokuto, who gave his best on each of his movements.

At dusk of the third day, Samson Foster, the team's coach, and Meian Shugo, the captain, gathered the participants to say their last words, whether criticism or praise, before announcing the one destined for the wing spiker's starting position.

"Congratulations, everyone!" Said the coach. “All of you did very well and gave us your best during the past three days. Unfortunately, we can only choose one of you for the new position, but we will have a small exception,” he allowed Meian to continue.

"We had two great highlights, Bokuto Koutarou and Sakusa Kiyoomi," he announced first, much to the delight of both and sadness of the rest. “Bokuto, your talent is undeniable and all of your energy is sure to be well appreciated by the rest of the team. You were our first decision for this position, so don't let us down!”

"I will do my best for the team, Shugo-san!" Bokuto bowed deeply in respect for his future captain.

“You, Sakusa, is a rare case, so special that you forced us to make an exception. We know that you still have another year of school ahead of you and we don't want to interfere with that. But next year we’ll have another position for a right wing spiker and feel flattered to have your name engraved on it since now. We’ll understand if you change your mind, but if it's what you wish, Black Jackals will welcome you with open arms.” Sakusa thanked him in a gesture similar to Bokuto's, but with much less intensity.

“To the rest of you, I appreciate your time and dedication, but unfortunately it wasn’t enough. We know you are extremely talented players and we're sure that we'll meet again, maybe on the other side of the court.”

A chorus of recognition was given by the Black Jackals’ team and also by the other players there, announcing the end of the one exhausting tryout.

Bokuto took his phone from his bag as soon as he left the gym.

 **To: Akaashi**  
I did it, Akaashi! I'm Black Jackals new wing spiker!  
I can hardly believe it

 **To: Akaashi**  
I'm taking the 8:00 PM train back to Tokyo and I'm going straight to your house  
Wait for me, please

The physiotherapist replied after a few seconds, as if waiting for a signal from Bokuto.

 **[Akaashi]**  
This is incredible, Bokuto-san. I said you could do it.  
I'm going to prepare a yakiniku to celebrate.  
Come home carefully and let me know as soon as you arrive at the station

There were almost no people walking around the streets and the air bursting through the buildings seemed slightly colder than a few days before, making Bokuto shiver as he tried to hide behind his jacket. The bars and restaurants made up for their absence and lack of heat with loud conversations and warm dimly lit places that characterized that pleasant Friday.

Bokuto's only interest, however, was to get home.

Akaashi programmed his time in the kitchen and coincidentally the doorbell rang through the walls of his apartment as soon as the meat board settled on the table.

And soon his arms found themselves full once again, this time with Bokuto’s body that crashed heavily against his.

"Akaashi, I'm home!" Bokuto permitted himself to relax in Akaashi's embrace. The slightly citric scent of his shampoo entering Bokuto’s sensitized nostrils forced his energy to dissipate.

Upon welcoming him, Akaashi placed a soft kiss on his jaw, next to his ear. "Welcome back, Bokuto-san."

Dinner proceeded slowly, during which Bokuto shared all the minimum details of his short journey with Akaashi, who remained attentive and compliant upon hearing the exalted words of the now professional volleyball player in front of him. The surrounding light reflected through the amber of his eyes and turned them into practically gold, as blinding as every gesture and smile displayed by Bokuto.

Akaashi was lost not only for his flashy speech, but also in awe of Bokuto's features as a whole. Three days of his notable absence were enough for the physiotherapist to notice the void left by Bokuto's energy in his day-to-day life. Long enough for his heart to howl as he longed for anything, a message, a call, a laugh or a touch.

"I'm really happy for you, Bokuto-san," Akaashi rested a hand on top of Bokuto’s. "I know I've told you this a thousand times, but you're an incredible person."

In the midst of a yawn, Bokuto replied to the compliment. "You're the best of them all, Akaashi!"

“You're tired, aren't you? Why don't you take a shower and go to sleep? I'm sure the trip has exhausted you,” Akaashi suggested.

Tiredness crept through Bokuto's body like a snake slowly crawling through the dirt, entering his tissues and carrying with it the weight of those last three days.

"Yeah, I think I'll follow your advice," Bokuto stood up and stretched. "Don't fall asleep without me," he stated before heading to the bathroom.

How could Akaashi even think about sleeping when his thoughts always brought him back to the same moment of the day before Bokuto left. Oikawa's words echoed on the corners of his mind as a constant reminder of his most impure and darkest desires. Almost four months ago, both decided to expose their feelings with the reconciliation of an alleged relationship.

And since then, nothing but kisses had been shared between them.

Not out of unwillingness, but out of respect.

Akaashi refused to impose any kind of physical activity when Bokuto was still recovering from his injury. As someone who put people's health first, it would be nothing but a sacrilege to disagree with such behavior by a purely carnal desire. The temptation, however, presented itself as Akaashi’s greatest enemy and it twisted his thoughts whenever his eyes weren't satisfied with just Bokuto's face and roamed through the rest of his body with a distinct glow of fascination.

Bokuto's biceps were his biggest problem.

The way they flexed when preparing for a spike or during a celebration. The strength with which they effortlessly supported Akaashi's weight by hugging him and lifting both of his feet off of the ground. The shape of his arms, enhanced by the tight sleeves of his shirts. All factors prompted Akaashi to question his own sanity and wish to have those arms around him in a completely different way than usual.

The bathroom door opened and, for mere seconds, Akaashi's sight was blocked by a dense fog from Bokuto’s high-temperature shower. However, just after the mist had vanished through the air, Akaashi's eyebrows went up in surprise for the view his eyes were blessed with.

"Uh," Bokuto nervously scratched the back of his neck with his available hand, as the other was too busy keeping his towel safe around his waist. "Sorry, I forgot to bring my clothes."

Akaashi watched the wild, dripping platinum hair and followed a single drop down Bokuto's neck, running through the sinuous curves of his defined chest and six-pack until it got lost within the cotton of his fluffy white towel. Bokuto’s body stood as the human figure of sin, an ancient Greek sculpture carved from marble. And Akaashi couldn’t simply take his eyes from that artwork.

Akaashi found himself with a sudden dryness in his throat.

Bokuto lay down beside Akaashi after putting on a pair of black boxer briefs. His body was like a furnace, difficult to stay close in the Summer, yet comfortable enough on cold winter nights. Heat arose from his pores and reached Akaashi, disturbed by the temperature and his own stormy mind, which persisted in repeating the image of seconds ago.

"I thought you were sleepy," Akaashi mentioned when he noticed Bokuto's anxiety rising up, tossing and turning repeatedly over the sheets.

"I lost sleep after the shower."

Akaashi turned on his side, meeting Bokuto's thoughtful expression.

"Do you remember that day when we were playing with Oikawa?" He whispered and waited for Bokuto to nod. "I couldn't stop thinking about what he said."

“Don't mind him, Akaashi. Oikawa is a pervert,” Bokuto comforted him, approaching Akaashi and stroking his arm under the thin blanket covering them.

"Why did you never try anything?" Akaashi asked.

Bokuto felt the heat traveling now to his cheeks. "You’ll laugh."

"I would never laugh at you, Bokuto," Akaashi insisted, shortening the distance between their faces.

After a moment of silence, Bokuto sighed. "I was waiting for the right moment," he said hastily. “I knew that nothing was going to happen while I was hurt, ‘cause I know you so well that I was sure you’d refuse any attempts of that. But after I recovered, the timing never seemed right, either you were out until late or I was too tired. And everything started to move too fast between us that I felt completely lost. ”

"But I wanted to! I still do, actually. Please don't think that I don't want you like that, Akaashi. You are perfect and it’s impossible not to want you in every possible way,” Bokuto added.

Akaashi could feel Bokuto’s breath brushing on every contour of his face with each word uttered. He reacted to the sound of Bokuto’s warm voice like a person being hypnotized by the ongoing movement of a yoyo. The space previously separating them now reduced to a couple of inches.

Akaashi's emotions slowly nibbled his inside, being fed by everything remotely related to Bokuto and their current position and causing sudden waves of sensations to come and go simultaneously. His eyes closed when he felt Bokuto's forehead touch his. He could barely contain his feelings for himself, letting them escape through a shaky exhale.

"We’ve waited long enough, don't you agree?"

Bokuto brought their lips together with an impulse, pouring over Akaashi all the feelings long held by the player; all the love, affection and passion that Bokuto never thought he would be revealing to anyone other than the physiotherapist himself. Similarly, a chill ran down his back as he lost himself in an even more monumental tide.

If Bokuto thought there were any doubts left about Akaashi's love for him, at that moment they were all immediately settled.

Both of them were completely intertwined and in synchrony; through legs, arms and mouths. Their bodies were practically glued to each other, to feel each of the throbbing beats of their respectives racing hearts. A pure and honest act of surrender, which few had the chance to ever experience. There, the feeling that many considered to be of greater preciousness and value was being exposed as an extraordinary desire grew. A glimpse of curiosity as their thoughts were reduced to nothing but the touch of each other and the feel of their skin at the gentle but desperate brush of their fingertips.

Akaashi's shirt soon found its destination on the floor, baring him to the owl's avid eyes who watched him with such adoration.

"You are so beautiful, Akaashi," murmured Bokuto, mesmerized by the delicacy of Akaashi’'s body.

His reddened lips moved down Akaashi's neck, biting lightly on the thin skin and leaving behind small marks as they covered the entire length of available clear skin, not leaving a single piece out. Clearly Akaashi's physique couldn’t be comparable to Bokuto’s, however that didn’t mean he deserved any less praise. His body was slender and well defined, without many apparent muscles.

Bokuto had never seen anyone so stunning in his whole life.

"Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately, Bokuto-san?" Akaashi said playfully. His hands followed Bokuto’s sides and ended on his chest, scratching the surface lightly and trying to bring Bokuto’s body closer to his.

Bokuto's hoarse laugh made Akaashi's heart skip a beat or two. "Every day, but that doesn't make you any less beautiful to me," he pulled the physiotherapist into yet another inflaming open kiss, dominating the gesture quickly and forcing a light sigh to leave Akaashi's throat.

With both his knees on the bed, Bokuto circled Akaashi's waist, placing him between his muscular thighs. He took advantage of the privileged view to stare with a silly smile at all the enchanting details of Akaashi’s body; the flush upon his cheeks and neck and the tiny moles that spread themselves over his sides, right under his ribs.

"Are you sure?" Bokuto asked once again.

In response, Akaashi hugged Bokuto’s neck and pulled Bokuto towards him until the mattress touched his bare back. Aside from their remaining briefs there were no more entanglements between them and the feeling of having the other so close made them both let out a raucous hiss.

"I've never been so sure of anything in my entire life."

That was the decisive permission Bokuto was waiting for before succumbing to his passionate desires. He distanced himself to properly see Akaashi’s face and at first he simply reached out for Akaashi’s hands, touching them with his lips as if he were greeting him in another century. Bokuto held them close as he kissed every inch of Akaashi’s fingers one by one. His hold was almost too careful, like any sudden moves would shred those precious hands into a thousand pieces. Then, he allowed their palms to finally touch and kept them there, static, at the mercy of his rapt gaze.

"I love your hands so much, they are beautiful," Bokuto smiled shyly, a curve different from the others playing around the edges of his lips. One he reserved only for Akaashi. "It was one of the first things I noticed about you. After your eyes, of course."

"Akaashi, look at me," Bokuto asked as he soundly kissed the palm of his hands. "Can I call you by your name?"

"Only if I can call you Koutarou," Akaashi replied.

The sound of Akaashi’s melodious voice made Bokuto's body shudder at the mere pleasure of being called so intimately by the one who was destined to have all his affection.

"Keiji," Bokuto murmured. "I'm going to make love to you now."

Akaashi wanted to laugh at Bokuto’s choice of words, but felt slightly embarrassed by them instead.

"You're being cheesy," he mentioned.

Bokuto leaned down again, narrowing the space placed by himself and interlacing his fingers with Akaashi's on the sides of his head. "I just want to take care of you. Like you did to me when I was injured."

"It's different," Akaashi insisted.

"Not to me."

Akaashi released his hands from Bokuto’s grip and ran them over his back, stopping right above his bottom and then sinking in his fingertips against that lustful part of his body.

“Then go ahead. Make me yours, Koutarou,” he whispered feverishly.

Like a beast free from the shackles trapping him inside metal bars, Bokuto grunted in ecstasy before reveling in yet another possessive kiss. However, this time they were both impatient for what was to come, practically devouring each other with all the longing hidden inside their hearts. The gesture, once languid, now acquired sounds that bounced against the walls of the room and raised the already burning temperature even more. The touches were freer and more desperate, traveling through any and all parts without shame or boundaries, seeking only the satisfaction of that lustful desire affecting them so intensely.

Akaashi's long legs wrapped themselves around Bokuto's thin waist, whose hips thrusted forward and stained the fine fabric of his underwear as he pressed his clothed cock against Akaashi’s.

The pleasure had been abrupt, an electric current running through each of those involved and then drawing aphonic gasps from them.

"Keiji..." Bokuto mumbled Akaashi's name in an insatiable plea at each moment he felt surrendered to the libido now filling his body.

Their movements were repeated in a slow rhythm until their clothes became too sticky to carry on. Their confined members were completely numb, exasperated by the moment they would finally be free. Bokuto had been the first to get rid of his briefs, a relieved sigh left his lips the moment the cold air brushed against his leaking cock. His hand immediately wrapped around it and he stoke it once, twice, quenching part of his overflowing desire. Akaashi nodded so that Bokuto was the one responsible for removing his last piece of clothing, leaning back and going deeper into the pillow when Bokuto's callused hands finally touched him.

"Koutarou..." a high-pitched moan left Akaashi’s parted lips.

Bokuto slowly stroked him, enjoying the contrasting weight and texture of Akaashi’s length in his hand and surrendering to Akaashi’s hypnotic sounds, whose back no longer touched the mattress they lay on. His hand’s movements were nothing more than a pleasurable torture for Akaashi. Bokuto looked at him fervently, attentive and delighted to how Akaashi’s body spontaneously responded to his smallest touches; a flick of his wrist, a stronger grip, a brush of his thumb.

"You look so beautiful, Keiji," Bokuto leaned on the bed with his free hand and lowered his face to rest his lips on Akaashi's chest, more specifically on his prominent nipple.

Akaashi’s fingers twitched as they clutched to the sheets and his body dominated by the sensations that affected him; an incomparable pleasure filling him up, yet at the same time never seemed to satisfy him completely. Bokuto’s teeth slipped through that sensitive part and Akaashi found himself even closer to his ending.

"It's not fair," Akaashi lifted his back from the bed, pushing Bokuto's face away as he closed his hands around the wild strands of his hair and forced his head back to face him. "I want to touch you too."

Bokuto smiled sheepishly, lining up their lengths and bringing Akaashi's hand around them.

"Let's do it together then."

The thrust of their slippery cocks in direct contact led them both to an unimaginable delirium. Obscenities were uttered in hoarse grunts and reverberated through the walls of the room, coming from the impulses of Bokuto and his hip and the movement of Akaashi's hands. Like the stepping of a melody, as the chorus approached, all actions intensified exponentially. The rhythm became erratic while the background noises indicated the despair of those begging for more.

With the thin thread that remained of his conscience, Akaashi groped the nightstand beside him and reached for two items from the drawer, throwing them on the bed, next to where Bokuto’s hand was pressed against the mattress.

"If we keep going like this, it’ll end sooner than I’d like to," Akaashi said breathlessly.

Bokuto nodded, cupping Akaashi's face and kissing his lips again.

"I don't think I’ll last much longer," Bokuto confessed with his lower lip between his teeth and an embarrassed expression.

Akaashi showed a tiny smile at the sight. "Koutarou," he called out. "I honestly couldn’t care less about that. I just need to feel you with me, in me." Akaashi felt the temperature of Bokuto's cheeks rise under his hands.

"I also should’ve told you this before, but I’ve never done this before,” Bokuto stared at the wall behind Akaashi’s head, completely aware of how nervous he was. He let out a light laugh hoping that it would make his jittery nerves go away.

"I’ll show you. For now, you just need to go slow," Akaashi comforted him with faint touches on his arms in an attempt to release the tension trapped inside Bokuto’s body.

Bokuto closed his eyes and took a deep breath, concentrating on the chills provided by Akaashi’s hands and not on the shaking of his own. "Alright."

He felt the cold, viscous liquid run through his fingers as Akaashi held him by the wrists. Curious, Bokuto rubbed his digits together, watching the lubricant layer wrap around them. The sensation wasn’t totally strange to him, since he had already used the same thing for his own pleasure, however, never for the purpose of his subsequent actions.

Slowly, Akaashi guided him to his entrance. “Let me get used to the feeling first, okay? It's been a while,” he asked heartily.

The first finger passed through the narrow muscular ring with some difficulty, but was soon enclosed by the heat of the thick walls surrounding it. Bokuto waited briefly before slowly pulling back his finger, leaving only the tip of it in touch with the pulsating entrance, and repeated the previous movement. It slipped inside without further resistance, which urged Bokuto to continue until a sign of Akaashi could be heard.

Which didn’t take long to happen.

"One more, Koutarou," reduced to short practical words, Akaashi whined.

Although shorter, Bokuto's fingers were thicker than Akaashi's, loosening his muscles with ease in cohesive scissor-like movements. Akaashi's sounds were compared to those of the mythological figure of the sirens, charming travelers with their melodious and sweet song, as well as Akaashi’s not always contained groans desperately calling out Bokuto’s name.

"K-Koutarou, tilt your fingers a little," Akaashi asked with virtually no strength, vocalizing his immense pleasure at the pressure of two fingers stimulating the walls of his prostate.

Akaashi hadn’t allowed himself to be so pliable under someone else's hands for some time. The feeling had always been indescribable, but with Bokuto they became too eminent. Under the player's inexperienced caresses, Akaashi devoted himself to his deepest desires with great enthusiasm.

As the third finger was pressed inside, Akaashi's head dug into the feather pillow and his hands searched for anything to hold on to, a support that would keep him pinned to the ground. The sensations were abundant, dragging Akaashi to the verge of his peak in a few minutes.

"That's enough," a gasping request left Akaashi's parted lips. "Please, Koutarou."

Without trusting his own voice, Bokuto wiped off the excess of lubricant on the sheets and opened the small package, unrolling the condom over his cock and adding an extra layer of the same lubricant to ensure that Akaashi wouldn’t feel any pain. He positioned himself over Akaashi’s entrance as he got his face closer to Akaashi’s.

"Go ahead. Slowly,” the physiotherapist told so as he felt his inner body filled by a significantly more burly presence compared to Bokuto’s fingers.

Bokuto was trapped. Akaashi's insides were warm and narrow, to the point that Bokuto's consciousness was absent for a few seconds. Not only did Akaashi’s musculature hold him there, but also a knot invisible to other’s eyes, one of tenderness and pleasure. At that point, their bodies came together and a bond was made at each end of the link encircling both hearts; their own red thread of fate coloring their blurred visions. And then, there was no more volleyball, or medicine, or any other noticeable differences between them.

It was just Bokuto and Akaashi and their moment together as they became one.

"Keiji, are you okay?" Bokuto asked as he noticed the twist in Akaashi's features.

He murmured in agreement. “Yes, I just need a little more time. You’re bigger than I imagined,” Akaashi smiled weakly.

Inflated by a certain pride, Bokuto reached Akaashi's ears, whispering encouraging words to him while bringing a hand to his exposed cock. Slowly, his actions proved effective in relaxing Akaashi, whose body accommodated the intrusion and surrendered again to the miserable pinpricks of happiness.

"I'm going to move now, okay?" He waited for an answer. "Let me know if you want to stop."

At first, Bokuto's movements were languid, concerned with the safety and well-being of the one receiving them so responsively. Careful, his pelvis thrusted into Akaashi with the cadence of a serene beat, punctuated by deep encounters and tumultuous sounds, drawing sighs from both sides. Silent tears flowed down Akaashi's eyelids, either due to the emotional storm pouring inside of him or the throbbing pain that soon left its place vacant to be filled by incomparable pleasure. Bokuto made sure to dry each one of them with his lips, trying to soothe any signs of Akaashi's discomfort.

Bokuto increased the pace of his thrusts to fulfill requests not made through words but gestures instead. Akaashi's legs tightened around his waist, forcing their bodies to be even closer. His hands followed the same purpose, clinging to each and every part of Bokuto and burying his short nails to mark Bokuto’s skin with symbols of his excitement.

“Don't stop, Koutarou. You’re doing so well,” Akaashi pleaded through his own whining.

Bokuto caught the weight of Akaashi's thigh on his arm, taking advantage of the position of their bodies to thrust more diligently. The movements, although erratic, were also extremely passionate, filling the room with sounds from where their skin met. Both were completely overcome by the heat of the moment; by the desperate rhythm of their hips in search of the friction that would take them to a higher level of delight.

"Keiji..." Bokuto whimpered. “Keiji, this is so good. I won't be able to hold it for much longer.”

Akaashi's soul was preparing its ascension to the heavens with each brush of Bokuto’s length against his prostate, accepting its destiny in the face of the exorbitant pleasure running through his blood and taking the air out of his lungs. Breathless, Akaashi’s hands searched for Bokuto’s hair, suddenly thirsty for the touch of his lips.

"Koutarou, you can let go."

As if that was the permission he needed, Bokuto brought one hand to Akaashi’s neglected cock and moved it according to the irregular compass of his hips.

Akaashi's conscience faded through the shrill sounds leaving his throat. Whitish stains painted on his abdomen a picture whose artist was represented by the feeling shared between those two lovers. In his lower abdomen, heat radiated from his walls as Bokuto's energy wore off. Akaashi cried at the empty space now left inside his body as Bokuto moved away.

Exhausted, Bokuto let his body collide against the mattress right beside Akaashi after disposing of the condom in the nearest trash.

"That was incredible," he murmured in a hushed voice.

Akaashi hummed in agreement, caressing Bokuto's hair lovingly.

"Seriously, it was amazing," Bokuto insisted, turning his face to Akaashi's side .

"I noticed."

The silence hung over the air like the distinct odor of sweat and latex perpetuating inside their noses.

"What happened? I didn't hurt you, did I? Are you okay, Keiji? I'm sorry I didn't want to- ”

Akaashi cut off his speech with simple, yet meaningful words.

"I love you, Koutarou."

Bokuto hid his face in the curves of Akaashi's collarbone.

"Keiji!" He pronounced his name the same way he did before, extending each syllable to their maximum. "I love you, too, Keiji."

"I don't know what will happen from now on, but whatever is out there waiting for me, I know I want it to be by your side," Bokuto confessed.

"Because you are just incredible, Keiji!"

Among suns and storms, regardless of the external climate, Bokuto's smile would continue to shine around his surroundings and spread all his contagious grace and energy. His moves would continue to be remembered by other generations yet to come. And his life would keep leading him through an uncertain but clear path.

All thanks to the fortunate presence of Akaashi Keiji.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Please leave a kudo and a comment if you liked the story
> 
> And don't forget to thank Oikawa for that lemon, hahaha
> 
> Stay safe, everyone <3  
> Say hello at [@starks-wings](https://starks-wings.tumblr.com/)


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